Chained to a Wall
by wolfdragonful
Summary: Anacoana, you are wonderful! Grimmjow is an FBI Agent assigned to a case that involves really gusty terrorists. They kill, they terrorize, and apparently they kidnap. When the elder son of the influential Shiba family disappears, things get really nuts.
1. Chapter 1

**I have the wonderful anacoana for giving me a muse to write off of. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how at least the first chapter sells.**

**This is the equivalent of a prolouge. Please enjoy.**

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Noise reached the ears of the slaves that huddled in the cramped, steal cages and many cringed. Some laughed silently as they recognized the owner of the screams that raced through the cement basement of the nondescript warehouse. Those who didn't recognize the agonized screams didn't ask questions; they would learn whose screams those were in due time and at that very moment, none of them were in any hurry to learn quite yet. They simply watched the older members to see pity and joy at the ongoing cries. One slave in particular, his dark hair – having grown long due to the lack of barber shops for the illegal slaves – falling into his eyes softly, noted a man he had been trained to see as a Master racing past the cages from outside the warehouse. He also saw the others follow the Master with eyes only. Each slave noted the sudden pause in the screaming.

Shouting erupted from the room the Master had rushed to and every slave tensed at the sound. Masters shouting never meant there was anything good coming towards the slaves. Tone meant everything to the caged slaves because it was the difference between a meal and a harsh beating. However, for some, it was the difference between living to see another day let alone another hour. The slaves didn't hesitate when the Masters came to them with rope and shackles in hand. They moved slowly and carefully while the Masters rushed them through the cage doors and to the transport trucks. Rope and shackles were wrapped over wrists and occasionally ankles of the slaves but none of them seemed to mind as they were ferried into cramped cargo areas that – like the box cars used in World War Two for Hitler's undesirables – had never been meant to hold humans. One could almost imagine how illegal immigrants felt as they paid to be smuggled in by truck like cattle in a cattle run.

The dark haired slave that had seen the Master enter the room before the others was shoved into one of the last trucks, his feet stumbling as he tried desperately to climb with chains bound about his ankles. He, mercifully, wasn't hit as he tumbled upwards to a seat. The last truck was always more spacious than the others due to the first being crammed as tightly as possible with people and maybe even the dismantled cages. There was room for him to sit if he wished and by god did he wish. He had usually been forced to stand in the cages because he couldn't afford to be off guard in those things. He was new, having been taken from his family, and therefore had more things to worry about in the hierarchal stations that were the co-rulers of the slaves' caged domain. He glanced back at the people who had shoved him up to see them speaking to Shank, a leader of the Masters. He listened carefully. He never knew when his ears would save him one day.

"Why now?" one asked. "How could they have found us anyway?"

"Who knows?" another growled. "Just load them up!"

"What about the one in them room?" the first asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked at Shank. Shank however simply sneered.

"Forget him! He'll die soon enough from the wounds alone!" Shank snarled. "Finnish what you're doing!"

The slave sucked in a breath as the doors closed. Others ignored him as was usual. He wept silently for the boy who had been left by his illegal owners. The boy had befriended him in the only fashion he could have in their situation – as a teacher and a student would become friends – and both of them had fought together to survive in the illegal ring they had been forced into. The man mentally cursed the people who had made a child with so much promise become nothing but a cold blooded fighter. He understood the boy had morals but morals meant nothing when the Masters wanted blood and death. He had seen the boy forced to kill for survival because he was paired up against someone who killed for fun and fun alone.

_I'm going to survive_, the man promised. _I'm going to fucking survive this hell hole._

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**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I have the wonderful anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write off of. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how at least the first chapter sells.**

**Usually, I'd wait a few days - a week or so - to see the reviews that came in. I didn't do that with all of my stories at the beginning because reading them made me want to update as fast as possible to see what would come next. I haven't felt that way in a long time. Thank you to the first four reviewers for letting me feel that again. Here's the next chapter.**

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Grimmjow's hands were sweating as he licked his lips in anticipation. This raid was huge; they had to be successful in it or else the entire case may be trashed or handed to another team. His team was in place along with two others and every single agent there was itching to go in. Grimmjow shook his head in amazement. The men they had been tracking were smart in the fact that they knew how to cover their tracks. Paper trails were few and far between not to mention that the ones they found that _weren't _bouncing around the world's satellites were even rarer. As much as Grimmjow loved a hunt, this one was simply annoying him to no end and he was far more than ready to end it.

The assholes he was trying to find were known for drug dealing, arms dealing, theft, and unfiled slave trades. Adding kidnapping had obviously been seen as a logical step to them when they kidnapped a rich –influential – man's eldest child six months ago. Grimmjow's team had been given the case initially but the warehouse a tip had led them to was huge. A couple extra teams were expected to be present in the current situation. Who knew what fire power they could be going up against?

"Let's go," Starrk, Grimmjow's team's head, yawned into his microphone that was audible in every earwig that each agent wore.

"You heard him!" Nnoitra, a fellow teammate of Grimmjow's, yelled.

Grimmjow smirked and moved in, gun ready. As soon as he was in the warehouse, his nose was assaulted by the stench of liquor, sweat, popcorn, and blood. As his piercingly blue eyes fell over the room, his nostrils caught the smell of alcohol and iodine. The smells mixed together oddly and almost naturally as he surveyed the area that was completely empty save for the rushing agents.

"Clear!" he called as his eyes found absolutely nothing. Others called out their calls of confirmed safety. Starrk locked eyes with him and nodded toward a door. Grimmjow nodded, approaching the door first almost gleefully. As much as he hated basements and attics, he couldn't contain his excitement. Something told him the case was busting wide open today and if he had to go into a place where he could possibly get pinned, he didn't really give a damn.

"Ready?" he asked in a whisper to Ulquiorra. The short, pale, eerily emerald colored eyed man nodded and he shifted his gun slightly. Grimmjow nodded and kicked the door open to reveal a long corridor that lead to separate rooms. If there was anything he hated more than attics and basements, it was tunnels that wound in and out like labyrinths that it was always best to have someone to navigate for you. There was no where to hide except around corners and it was only natural that the ones that were being pursued knew the tunnels better than anyone else.

"I hate tunnels," Ulquiorra muttered.

"You're not alone," Starrk replied, his hand at his earwig. "Toshiro and Rangiku are saying there are rooms there that may be for storage or any number of things. We take it slow right?" He lifted his brows questioningly at Grimmjow and Grimmjow nodded easily.

"Then let's do it," Grimmjow hissed, taking an anticipating step forward.

"Watch for traps," Starrk warned paternally. Grimmjow held back the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance at the tall brunette. Like he needed to be reminded when he had been at the last hideout of the men they were chasing. The house was now a hole in the ground and Grimmjow still set off the metal detectors at work. Damned copper pipes. Grimmjow loved his job at the Bureau and all but he would have liked to not be known as the guy who set off every alarm at the damned doors. That incident was yet another reason why two extra teams had come along with theirs. Extra men could mean faster responses if something went wrong.

His steps were quick yet cautious as he went down the hall. He stopped at the end at the last door, Ulquiorra and Starrk on his heels. Starrk looked back to find teams of three at the other doors. He singled and doors slammed away from their hinges loudly with thundering bangs. Heavy footfalls tumbled to Grimmjow's ears as Ulquiorra and Starrk took the lead into the room they were in front of. As he followed, his stomach clenched oddly and his nose suddenly went into high alert of the smell for blood.

"Clear," Ulquiorra sighed, his gun falling to point at the floor. Starrk called the all clear out the door and his yell was followed by a chorus of the same call. Grimmjow's nose was still twitching from the smell of blood and possible infection. Grimmjow kept his gun ready at his hip but kept both hands on it. Something wasn't right and he didn't know what it was.

"Anything?" Starrk asked the other two team leaders – Kenpachi and Byakuya – from the doorway. Both answered negatively. "Damn. See what you can find." They both nodded, their eyes glowing with understanding at his impatient tone of voice. Both knew how horridly important it had been to try to catch the men they were chasing. They left silently and easily, going to their business.

Starrk left the room to help organize the forensic bit of the raid. Cameras with large flashes were dragged from cases and forensic kits were broken out and snapped open. Latex gloves were snapped onto hands of varying sizes and Grimmjow couldn't help but feel like an orchestrator of justifying chaos. Chaos that brought justice was an interesting way of thinking of it but he felt it fit well. He snapped the latex gloves into place as soon as he holstered his side arm. He trudged back to the room he'd been investigating, a camera in his hand and a kit in the other one. He snapped pictures quickly but efficiently, documenting everything where it was in utter chaotic perfection. He tried to ignore the conversations that rang out around him as he worked, his body itching to find out why the room was rubbing him raw.

"Sir!" Nnoitra called. "We found dismantled cages that were probably left in a hurry – maybe while they were leaving? – and evidence of a fighting ring."

"A fighting ring?" Ulquiorra asked, his attention still seemingly focused on the scene he was sketching carefully with artistic ability and infallibility. "What now? Illegal fight clubs?"

"Who knows?" Starrk shrugged. "They may have been at this longer than we originally estimated. The kidnapping may be proof of that."

"Who's fighting though?" Nnoitra asked as he stood from collecting a sample of something from the wall outside the room Grimmjow occupied. Grimmjow snapped a few pictures, his lens catching something his eyes missed; a pool of red that seemed to be originating from the wall rather than a body. He let the camera drop to his chest and cocked his head at the new find.

What really got Grimmjow though was that he could have sworn he heard something soft. He narrowed his eyes as the others spoke.

"Again," Starrk replied, "who knows? It may be the members of the cell or it may be the illegal slaves they have."

"You guys are loud," Grimmjow growled as he glared at them all. A couple smiled at him in a silly fashion when Grimmjow glared harder at them and the smiles disappeared.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra asked, his pad falling to his hip. Grimmjow shook his head and waved them off. He growled at them to shut up and work and returned to his own.

The others worked their way down and around the hall while he stayed put, the room seemingly becoming his claimed space for work. He took multiple pictures, did multiple sketches, and filmed multiple times. It was like he couldn't bring himself to leave the room and his blue eyes kept falling on the pool of crimson that was clotting slowly. He bit his lip and pulled the camera up to his eyes again and snapped a few more photos. A flash hit the wall opposite the door in such a way that Grimmjow's eyes finally caught a rectangular outline.

He dropped the camera slowly and placed it onto the ground. He stepped slowly over to the wall and tapped at it softly until he heard a hollow thump. He tapped again and received the same hollow thump back, this time, accompanied by a pained moan. He cocked his head and pulled his knife from his belt, slipping it into the cracks and edging it outward. He called Starrk easily as he pried the fake wall from its place.

"What is it Grimmjow?" Starrk asked as he opened the door.

"I found something," Grimmjow said quickly. He flicked it open as soon as he could and strangled the gasp the threatened to escape his lips. He heard Starrk's own sharp intake of air as the discovery literally rolled onto Grimmjow's feet. Grimmjow dropped to his knees and cradled the body of a boy in his arms gently.

"Call a bus!" he bellowed back at his teammates as he slipped the knife back into its holster. He all but ripped the FBI jacket from his torso to reveal the bulletproof vest he wore. He wrapped the jacket over the boy's heavily injured frame. He heard Starrk shout for an ambulance before the tall brunette rushed to his side to assist with the kid.

"Jesus!" Nnoitra gagged at Grimmjow's right. He too pulled off his jacket and fashioned a pillow from it before rushing back out to help the other agents and guide the EMTs.

Grimmjow couldn't help but feel like Nnoitra had left for another reason other than that. He didn't blame his friend for wanting to leave what was in Grimmjow's arms to Grimmjow and Starrk. The youth, who could only be seventeen if not eighteen, wore worn denim shorts and nothing else save for random, misshapen wrappings of bandages. The bandages had been wrapped loosely and without care over the youth's arms, legs, neck, and chest. His knuckles were torn and bloody but in better shape than his wrists or palms. Grimmjow couldn't tell weather or not the boy had been fighting back or attacking first. His torso was bruised badly, indicating broken ribs, his bottom lip was split, and half his head was wrapped in dirty bandages. Whatever hair he had was well covered by the bandages. The bandaging was setting him off all on its own due to it all being old.

What had really struck Grimmjow were the obviously fresh wounds that littered every open bit of skin. He could only assume they were whip marks due to their shape and size but something about them was off. He came to the conclusion from his own memories of old pictures of whipped slaves but the marks were wrong in so many ways. Some were jagged around the edges and others started narrow but ended when large chunks of skin and muscle were suddenly gone. It was like some bastard had put shards of glass and bone into the braids of the whip. He chewed his lip and watched as Starrk murmured curses left and right.

Weary eyes began to flutter open suddenly but slowly. Grimmjow leaned over the youth while Starrk bellowed back to find out what was taking so long.

"Kid?" Grimmjow asked.

Brown eyes looked back at him in a haze. Grimmjow bit his lip with worry. The youth was no where near coherent and it was dangerous to push him now. They could lose evidence if he pushed. It was so important to get evidence but this kid was human.

"Easy," he said, patting the kid on the least injured cheek. He'd just have to settle for what he could. "My name's Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. I'm FBI. You're safe now…Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The youth's eyes wandered until he nodded painfully. Grimmjow smiled at him, purely glad that he was responding at all. The kid gazed at the room hazily and confused. Grimmjow's hand continued to stroke the kid's cheek reassuringly, and the teal haired agent was glad that Starrk was shouting out the door. He was surprised as a shaking hand gripped his collar firmly, pulling him back to the boy's beaten face.

"_Tasukete_," the boy whimpered, tears dewing in the corners of his amber eyes. "_Tasukete kudasai_!"

"Easy, easy kid," Grimmjow soothed. He began to wish he'd gone into the Yakuza rather than Mexican cartels. As far as Spanish could get him, Japanese was uncharted territory. He only recognized it due to his helping Harribel learn it when _she_ went undercover in the Yakuza. That had been years ago and she was rusty now. "Shit…Starrk! I need help!"

The youth's grip tightened, blood oozing from his wounds and pooling in Grimmjow's coat and tear after tear beaded down the kid's soft looking cheeks. Grimmjow shushed him softly and gently but he continued to repeat the two words over and over. Starrk turned and rushed back to take the boy into his own arms in a gentle hug. The boy began sobbing as soon as Starrk had him in that almost loving hold. Starrk sighed and shushed the boy with practiced paternal tones.

"I'll take care of this Grimmjow," Starrk stated calmly as he began to rock back and forth calming the kid as he did. "Help the EMTs get in here."

Grimmjow nodded and left to follow his orders to the letter. In minutes, the boy was swept onto a gurney and loaded into the back of the ambulance; completely out cold, tear tracks still visible on his dirtied cheeks.

"What he saying?" Grimmjow whispered to Starrk as soon as the bus left in all its clanging glory. They were both walking back to the warehouse to take more pictures of that room. Grimmjow wasn't feeling up to going back in there since the kid's plaintive whimpering for something Grimmjow couldn't figure out. He only asked Starrk because the tall brunette had spent more time helping Harribel study and had at least retained some of what he helped teach.

Starrk looked at him and then back at the gates through which the ambulance had just left. His gray-blue eyes seemed more tired than usual and Grimmjow couldn't help but think back when the man had lost his wife a few years back. He had been left to raise his little girl, Lilynette who secretly worshiped the ground her father walked on.

"He was saying 'Please help,'" Starrk translated. He continued onward as Grimmjow stopped to turn back to the gate, his hand over his mouth as tears began to stream down his sculpted cheeks.

_I should have known that_, he thought. _I should have known._

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**Tasukete = Help**

**Kudasai = Please**

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I have the wonderful anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how at least the first chapter sells.**

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A week or so later, the teams received news that the youth had awoken after heavy surgery and multiple tests. Pictures had been taken and every procedure was written down in exacting detail before being sent to them by express mail. Grimmjow had been nearby when Ikakku – one of Kenpachi's men – had opened it. The bald man had turned green from the sight of the pictures alone. His partner Yumichika turned greener and he read the medical report.

It was almost natural that Starrk had been the one the hospital had kept contact with. He'd taken it upon himself to call whenever he had a chance to get an update. The man also went and visited for a few minutes before going home to his daughter. When the pictures and medical report came in he looked damn near murderous that Ikakku and Yumichika had opened it but he looked far more steamed with Grimmjow for not stopping them. He had also become somewhat silent since the kid had been reported to be out of surgery and that alone had the teams on edge. Starrk was a quiet guy to begin with but this sudden lapse of complete silence that was paired with a murderous aura was not at all like him and they all knew it. The whole floor would become stiff when he got onto it in the morning and when he was gone, things would seem less cautious and careful. Grimmjow even found himself carefully edging around Starrk's desk even if the man wasn't present.

When the hospital called to say the kid had woken up, Starrk stated the news briskly before gathering his coat and leaving in a flurry of movement. Grimmjow, himself, was surprised the kid even woke up and he had a feeling Starrk felt the same way. Those wounds were a bit much by Grimmjow's standards and he knew perfectly well that Starrk had an aversion to torture of any kind. Grimmjow was presently watching the elevator worriedly, wondering what the kid might say this time. Thankfully, he wasn't alone in his worry.

Ikakku and Yumichika were sitting nearby with Nnoitra and Ulquiorra, all four of them taking turns glancing at the elevator, their backs stiff. The sun that beamed through the windows made Ikakku's bald head glint blindingly but his eyes glowed with something far more primal. Ikakku wasn't as bad as some thought he was. In fact, he was almost fatherly. This was especially true when it came to his god daughter, Kenpachi's kid Yachiru who was actually very close to her big bad wolf of a dad. Yumichika, known as Yumi to his friends and coworkers, sat regally next to Ulquiorra, his infallible hair falling neatly into place. Both men cringed when their intimidating team leader thundered past them in street clothes and face dark and hard set. With the unneeded patch over his right eye and spiked hair, the man fit a little too well into a Mexican cartel.

"Is Starrk back yet?" Nnoitra asked, cringing when Kenpachi roared at some innocent intern that was stupid enough to get in his way. Grimmjow was about to shake his head when the elevator doors chimed open. Starrk strode in quickly, his blue-gray eyes closed and his jaw set in a hard line. Grimmjow nodded and Ikakku gave shrill whistle. A few heads popped up from behind desks and the original group of four was joined by the other teammates that were working with them.

Kenpachi was first over, his long strides covering more ground than any of the high heeled women around him. Byakuya was right on his heels, his little sister Rukia following close behind. Renji Abarai, Rukia's husband and Byakuya's second trudged over as well dragging Matsumot and Toshiro – the resident geeks – with him. Neliel Tu, Kenpachi's second came over gracefully, her sea green hair flowing smoothly behind her movements. Grimmjow felt a small pang of regret as she walked up to him, his thoughts running back to the days he dated her. Neither one could have said the relationship could have gone any further than it already had. He also couldn't say that it had been him who ended it when it had been Neliel who'd suggested they just stay friends. Needless to say, he _never_ used that line on any other women he saw.

"How's our kid?" Kenpachi asked his voice still tense from whatever was bothering him. Starrk eased himself into a seat and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How do you think he is?" Starrk muttered. "He's scared shitless and he doesn't like new faces either. He wouldn't talk around Harribel at all with her in the room and I don't remember that much Japanese."

"Did he at least say something to you even you couldn't understand?" Kenpachi asked.

"Yeah," Starrk sighed. "He said one line over and over like in the warehouse. I had Harribel translate it for me on the way back here."

"What was it?" Byakuya asked. Starrk waved him off.

"It doesn't pertain to you," Starrk stated. "He wants to talk to one person and one person only. Don't worry about it. I'll be making sure it happens."

"Alright then," Renji said with a sigh. "What do you want us to do for now?"

Grimmjow glanced at his boss with slight admiration. Starrk was together far better than anyone else would have been in the same situation. Starrk was also still in charge of what all happened on this case – at least until someone higher up decided to hand it over to another set of fresh eyes. Starrk looked around at the assemblage he had around him.

"Kuchiki, you and yours get on the warehouse stuff. Zaraki, if you and your people will stay on the kid's photos as well as what we had before hand, I'd greatly appreciate it. My team, go and disperse yourselves around and help where you can. Matsumoto, you and Toshiro get to whatever you can on these guys' chatter. Get going."

The teams nodded and dispersed like frightened birds. Kenpachi's people went to a glass encased "war room" and set to work spreading pictures and documents out on the table there. Kuchiki's group spaced their stuff out on another table around the same place. Ulquiorra stood and looked around for Yammy, another teammate of theirs, only to find him still absent.

"I'm going to assist Neliel," he stated as he waltzed off.

"I'm going to take the warehouse stuff," Nnoitra said quickly before Ulquiorra could drag him along. He popped his back as he stood and then strode off to Byakua's team. Grimmjow himself understood the aversion to looking at pictures of the kid's injuries when seeing them in real life had been disturbing enough. He was about to join Nnoitra when Starrk caught his eyes.

"Sit will you?" Starrk asked.

Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably. He didn't mind speaking to his team leader but as a rich man's son, Grimmjow had enough to knowledge about slaves. About 90% of Grimmjow's family was slave owners. The one percent he came from treated their slaves well, like equals. The others treated their slaves like shit. Again, Grimmjow recognized whip markings for reasons. History books had been one way; the rest of the family had been the other. Since Grimmjow didn't know weather or not the kid was a slave, he was being wary about what he did so he wouldn't end up on guard duty for the kid. Grimmjow was fine with slaves. It was wounds that set him on edge.

At a young age, he had been taught to treat slaves like the humans they were. Being raised around slaves had made his views somewhat cemented. His father was a Master that the slaves respected and loved due to the man being firm but gentle to them. The family that was cruel to slaves was scorned by those who didn't own slaves and Grimmjow's family. Family reunions were tough thanks to the extended family being rude to any and all slaves present. Their own slaves would hide behind Grimmjow's family in fear. Grimmjow hadn't had a personal slave since a cousin raped his – one who just happened to be a pretty female. His father chewed the uncle out, Grimmjow beat the boy to a pulp, and the girl committed suicide.

"They put the kid in an MRI before I got the call," Starrk stated. "The kid was asleep when he went in but the MRI's magnets pulled something out of his skin." Starrk dug into his jacket pocket to pull out a sample jar. In it was a chip. One that Grimmjow had grown to know well. He gulped.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"If you're thinking that it's an illegal chip that was put in the kid's body at some point in time? Yes, it is just that. The doctors are trying to figure out just how long it's been in there." He placed it onto the desk. "I'm going to need you on him."

"What? Why me?"

"Remember that phrase I said he repeated?" Grimmjow nodded. "He was asking for 'the blue haired agent' and last I checked, you're the only one with blue hair we've got."

Grimmjow sat stunned. The kid wanted _him_? Why, in god's name, did the kid want him?

"Look Grimmjow," Starrk said calmly. "This kid is a huge lead. We need him, you understand that?"

"Why me?" Grimmjow muttered, scrubbing his face tiredly.

"Because you're known for your track record with slaves."

"Don't you mean my family's track record?"

"No. I mean yours. Not to mention, he asked for you personally." Grimmjow frowned at him. "Either way, this kid may not speak to anyone other than the two of us. You and I are liaisons until he'll talk to others. In other words, I need you with him."

"I don't speak Japanese!"

"That doesn't matter," Starrk shrugged. "I can't remember what Harribel and I learned together. I ended up speaking in English." Starrk smiled then. "From the look in his eyes, I could tell he understood me."

Grimmjow sighed. There really was nothing he could say to get out of it.

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Nnoitra laughed heavily as soon as Grimmjow had explained what was happening. He had ended up switching to helping Ulquiorra when even he couldn't find anything to think anything new up. Grimmjow couldn't help but feel that it was almost divine retribution for his getting Nnoitra shit faced a few years back. So shit faced in fact, that the lanky raven haired agent had had a one night stand with another guy. All in all though, it had worked out considering the guy Nnoitra had screwed ended up becoming his boyfriend. Who knew right?

"Go fuck your boyfriend Nnoitra!" Grimmjow growled. "This isn't funny!"

"Actually it is," Ikakku chuckled.

"Bastards," Grimmjow muttered. He shouldn't have opened his mouth. He should have just handed the chip over to Toshiro and walked the hell away but had he? No! He just had to talk to his friends about his problems! Even Neliel was turning on him, her hand over her mouth and her shoulders rising and falling quickly as she stifled her laughter. Only Ulquiorra was being kind to him at that point.

"I thought you were working with Kuchiki," Ulquiorra stated, his gaze never leaving the medical report. Toshiro sat next to him, glaring at his computer like it was the bane of his existence despite it being his livelihood.

"I was," Nnoitra said grudgingly as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Rukia and Renji were bickering again. Those two are so loud!"

"And it's not like you and Shinji don't raise the dead either," Matsumoto sneered. Neliel burst into laughter then.

"Sorry," she admonished. "Those two have always been loud. There's no changing it Nnoitra. We've known this for a while."

Grimmjow pursed his lips before walking over to Toshiro and placing the sample jar next to Toshiro's hand. The chip clinked loudly as it fell to the table. Toshiro glanced at it, a brow lifted in interest.

"What's that Grimm?" Neliel asked.

"Just something for Toshiro to look at. Hopefully, the MRI didn't destroy too much information on it." As soon as he finished, he turned to leave. Damn Toshiro's need to know and ask questions.

"MRI?" Toshiro asked as he lifted the chip to look at it in the light. "What the hell was this doing in an MRI chamber?" Grimmjow turned to look at the group that was now looking at him expectantly.

"That," he pointed at the chip, "came from our kid."

The room suddenly got deadly quiet. Even Neliel's usual cheer seemed to disappear. Grimmjow chewed his bottom lip again. The others felt his unease and, like their reaction to Starrk's odd change in personality, they turned back to their work stiffly. Grimmjow's eyes caught on the image of one of the cuts that had marred the boy's chest. It had been scratched at, the dirtied bandages doing nothing to protect from infection. He scowled at the picture and managed to not slam the glass door as he left for the hospital.

* * *

When Grimmjow arrived at the hospital, he was met by smiling patrons who all seemed too cheery for his taste. Las Noches General Hospital was Grimmjow's least favorite place to be next to attics, basements, and tunnels. It was just his luck that this place gave a discount in care for all law enforcement officers of any and all kinds along with their families. The discount alone provided 90% of their needed funds. The last 10% were filled by other small families and their problems. It was a high quality facility and considering their main source of revenue was injured cops and their families. Grimmjow applauded them for doing so well but that didn't stop him from hating it the way he did. Stark white walls were completely bare from any pictures, awareness posters, pictures from the kids they took care of, and even certificates. It didn't sit well with him that the kids sections were completely white rather than painted with inspiring pictures like a blue sky or fluffy animals.

Blame waking up from a gunshot wound only to see blinding white walls that seemed to contract and enclose him while he was supposedly healing well.

"Welcome to Las Noches General," the receptionist chimed animatedly. He bit back a growl at her tone and obviously forced smile. "May I see your ID please?" He flashed the badge at her, his eyes watching carefully as her smile faded slightly. "FBI? Are you here for the-?"

"The John Doe slave? Yes, I'm here for him."

"Room 307," she stated. "You'll need this." She handed him a visitor's badge that he snatched from her hand and snapped to his shirt. He marched to the elevators, annoyed at how quickly her smile had returned. He noted that people in her position was supposed to be kindly and were to smile often. It was for reason that he didn't understand and he was all too happy to just be annoyed with it. He punched the buttons he needed and leaned against the chrome walls. When the doors chimed open, he trudged forward and searched for the room he needed.

He walked past a group of doctors; a man and two women. The man looked to be about forty-something, sported a goatee and spiky black hair, and a Hawaiian shirt. One woman was tall with short silver hair with two strands longer than the rest braided with string and beads while the other was shorter, older, and had her long, dark hair braided under her chin. The women were listening to the man complain about someone. From what Grimmjow could tell, the man was the reluctant one while the women had bullied him into talking. Something in the man's accent screamed out to Grimmjow but when he tried to bother to listen, he didn't hear it anymore. He gave up and moved for the room he needed.

His thoughts ran rampant as he remembered what may have to take place. When the kid was possibly not a slave – and an illegal one to boot – the Bureau would have had to try to find his family. Now that he was a slave, finding family seemed a bit impossible and completely dismal in happening. It would be wonderful to be able to say that the kid still had a name seeing as illegal slave traders preferred their slaves forget whatever names they had before being captured. There was a very high possibility that the kid didn't know his name anymore let alone his family's names.

He paused at the door he needed for a moment before stepping in softly. The room was lit by blinding florescent lights, the shades on the window down and shut. Machines beeped incessantly in time to heartbeats. The kid looked small in the amazingly large bed he was sleeping on, the pale, peach seats and covers had been kicked away while the kid curled into a ball. He wore baby blue pants and shirt that were a tad too big for him.

As tempting as it was to leave, Grimmjow paused to look over the boy's form. The boy's arms were tucked between his chest and legs while his knees were up to his chest. As if to top off the defensive position, the kid's bandaged head was bent toward his knees. It was odd how adorable the boy looked. Grimmjow sighed as he shed the dress jacket he wore for the office and loosened the tie. He tossed the jacket over the curved back of a plastic, padded chair. He walked over to the bed and tossed the sheets that he found a bit thin and lacking over the boy's body with a flick of the wrist. As soon as the covers brushed over the boy however, his eyes shot open, the whites showing like those on a spooked horse.

"Aren't you cold?" Grimmjow blabbered as he dropped the covers onto the kid unceremoniously. He backed away, tripping over his feet as he went.

"_Iie_," the boy mumbled from under the covers as he peered at the tall, muscular man before him over the hems. He repeated the word as soon as their eye connected and sat up straighter. Grimmjow winced when he hissed in pain.

"D-don't force yourself," Grimmjow pleaded, his hand raised as if to say 'lie down.'

"_Boku wa daijoubu yo!_" the kid growled. "_Boku wa yowai janai!_"

Grimmjow stared at him blankly, all memory of any Japanese he might have learned suddenly flying over his head. The youth continued to glare at him with a hot passion that made Grimmjow shiver in ecstasy. He liked the fire that roared in those amber brown depths. It had been a while since Grimmjow had seen a fire that bright in years. Cartels sometimes had men with a similar spark but that was all it ever was, a spark. This kid knew things that normal humans shouldn't. that made him dangerous and…extremely enticing.

"I can't speak Japanese," he growled back. "Now, my boss says he spoke to you in English and you seemed to understand him perfectly. Translation: speak in a language that I can understand or else, I leave."

He flopped into the chair, a smirk on his angular face. He had always prided himself about his looks but not so much that he was vain. His natural blue hair was a bitch to hide but he could always change styles and grow stubble if he had to. There were reasons he had been named "Pantera" by the cartels. He was someone who got called in to take care of things for higher ups and was feared and respected by all cartel members. At the moment, he hadn't been called so he was keeping his hair in the usual casual spiking he preferred.

His smirk nearly widened when the kid's glare grew darker and harder.

"You asked if I was cold. I said no," the kid said somewhat grudgingly. "You told me not to 'force' myself. I told you that I'm fine and I'm _not _weak!"

The brashness was wonderfully intoxicating. His eyes widened in surprise though when the boy spoke in fluent English, his voice not even shaken by an accent. It was like he'd never spoken another language before the English. He also hadn't expected the kid to speak. His surprise was short lived however when the youth suddenly tensed up, his amber eyes wide once again with fear. Grimmjow cocked his head in concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I was out of line Master," the kid stammered, his eyes averting themselves from Grimmjow's bright blue ones. "I-I shouldn't have spoken out like that. It won't happen again."

Grimmjow watched as the boy's bandaged hands shook violently as he gripped the sheets in a white knuckle grip. The boy's breathing quickened and the beeping on the monitor followed suit, much to Grimmjow's annoyance. However, Grimmjow found it interesting how well ingrained the words were in the boy's head. It was like it was second nature for the boy to say those words; as if it were a survival mechanism. It was like forgetting your name and warning new slaves to do the same. However, there were rumors that some did remember their names despite what they were ordered to do.

"Actually," Grimmjow stated calmly, "I was raised to treat slaves like they were pretty much equal to me meaning they could speak their minds. Given, they usually did it carefully but they did it. I like your brashness."

He looked over the boy again and was yet again marveled by him. His body was obviously toned to perfection for god only knew what. The boy seemed to be waiting for something from Grimmjow but Grimmjow had no idea what it was but he was sure that it was against everything he'd been taught. His eyes fell over the clean bandages and he smiled with pleasure at how nicely done they were done. The clothes were more than a tad too big now that the youth was sitting rather than curled up. The shirt sleeves would have come to an end at the crest of a normal man's shoulders but on the kid, they looked like short, short sleeves. He also remembered the hems of the pants had gone past the youth's heels when his legs were curled to his chest.

"What's your name?" Grimmjow asked. The kid stiffened again and Grimmjow's eyes narrowed with slight irritation. That was what he had been worried about.

"I don't have one Master."

Grimmjow huffed through his nose. Exactly what he knew he'd hear. He gritted his teeth with annoyance before speaking again. "Look Kid," he growled. "Whoever told you to forget your name, left you behind. They beat you and left you to die in a false wall. My team and I saved you. We want to know your story; your name included." He nearly took his words back when tears beaded down the boy's cheeks.

"Ichigo," he replied weakly. "_Boku no namae wa Ichigo desu._"

_

* * *

_

**_Boku_ = male (polite) version of "I"**

**_no_ = posessive particle. Paired with Watashi or Boku, it means "mine"**

**_Namae_ = Name**

**_Wa_ and _Desu_ are particles.**

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**This chapter is a bit jumpy. It starts with the new ring area then goes to Grimmjow and Ichigo then Ichigo alone.**

* * *

The ring was loud.

He wasn't sure why he was surprised about it. It was always loud. Customers cheered, jeered, roared, and cussed as they watched their favorites fight it out. There was always noise of some type. If it wasn't outside with the Masters and Customers, it was in the back, with the rest of the slaves. Cages were cramped save for the ones that were slightly more spacious but those were few and far between.

The dark haired slave was in a cage alone. It was to be expected. The last few months had been hell on earth for him and he'd done what he had been taught; take it out on your opponent in the ring. It was a well known fact that if his trainer was having an especially rough day, his opponents paid for it. One too many people in the cages getting after his vivid hair or saying things that the dark haired slave could never really piece together could make a long day become an eternity if his trainer wasn't able to get into the ring. Once he'd gotten into the ring however, he was usually paired against the ones who'd teased him.

A broken collar bone, broken jaw, broken ribs (three usually if not five), or a dislocated shoulder was usually the least amount of damage his opponents left with.

After the move however, it had become quite apparent to the dark haired slave that his trainer had been abandoned. The Masters had only gotten them into that place a few weeks before they were suddenly rushing to get out. The dark haired slave wasn't sure who had found them but he hoped that they were kinder than these Masters. He also hoped that his trainer remembered his name and would tell them – if they were trustworthy of course.

The deal with knowing only the names of your trainers and trainees was so that, if you got out in the first place, you could tell your new Master who you were before the ring and who else you had come into contact with. The problem was that even if you were rented out, there was no guarantee that you would meet a Master who would help. If you escaped, you were busy being hunted. If you were abandoned…Well, no one had been abandoned while alive before.

The dark haired slave had recently been in the ring with a huge behemoth of an opponent before him. He was on his tenth fight and the behemoth was supposedly a Top Fighter. It was hard to believe. The dark haired slave hadn't hit him yet but that wasn't necessarily because the guy was good. He charged like a raging boar and all the dark haired slave did was dodging as he observed. The man was slow with punches and was better at charging than anything else. He probably only charged, grabbed his opponent, and slammed them against the thick walls of the ring – if there ever were walls.

_Too easy_, he'd thought. The man was turning but the dark haired slave was already moving. He slipped past him, jamming his fists into the man's abdominals and then slamming his shin into the man's solar plexus. The man roared in pain but it was cut short as the dark haired slave's fist shot up to his chin. A sickening crunch met the ears of the Customers and Masters but they roared in glee and ecstasy. The behemoth fell to the floor whimpering in pain as the dark haired slave was grabbed by a Master/Guard. He was dragged back to his cage where he found himself at present.

"Well done," a calm voice called to him. He glanced over to find a Chinese woman staring at him. Most of her hair was short, flaring from her head like wings. There were two pony-tails that were braided over by white cloth, which was tied with two rings at the ends. _Dangerous_, he thought. _You can get caught by those._ "Want my name?"

"No," he snarled. "I'm not your trainer or your student. Fuck off."

"Here I thought you had morals," she sighed. She shrugged, her brown eyes glowing with boredom and mischief. "Not all of us go for the whole 'student/trainer' relationship with names. I, and a few others, are trying to get as many names as we can to get as much help as possible if we can." She smirked then. "My name's Suì-Fēng. You can call me Soifon though. It's easier to pronounce isn't it?"

"What's the point of telling me this?"

"You think I didn't talk to your trainer about this? Hell, Hiyori over there," she jerked her head to point out a blonde haired girl sitting in another cage with a few other people, "talked to him first. So did the others in that cage with him."

"You're telling me this because?" the dark haired slave asked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the cage bars. He watched as her eyes squinted at his arm and he held it up. "Like it Soifon?"

"Using my name so casually," she hissed. "You're just like you're trainer."

"Did he ever give you his name?"

Soifon smiled at the note of jealousy that caressed the edges of the sharp tone. She shook her head. "No. Like you, he was a traditionalist." She looked at the tattoo on the man's arm again. "Such a strange inking. What's it for?"

"If you get rented out, look for it. Then you'll know my last name at least."

Soifon chuckled. "So full of mystery. I like that. So will the others."

"Good for them," he mocked at her. "Leave me alone." He turned his back to her.

"Did you know he had to kill someone?" she asked her tone nonchalant. The dark haired slave's back tensed at the memory that flooded to the front of his mind.

_"You've killed someone?" he gasped. Ichigo nodded at him, his brown eyes serious. His arms were bandaged all the way up and a brace was wrapped around his right knee. The fight had been tough but it wasn't really Ichigo's fault. He'd protected the dark haired slave without looking like he had._

_"He'd asked me to kill him if we were ever in a fight against each other even if we weren't on the same level. It took a month to break him," Ichigo murmured as he picked at bits of fluff that beaded the brace. "He didn't like fighting."_

_"Then how'd he survive a month?"_

_"He liked protecting. If I was pinned, he fought. If he was pinned, I fought. We had each other's backs in a way."_

_"Why kill him then?"_

_"Because he asked me to….He also didn't give me much choice once the fight started."_

_"He fought back?"_

_"He threw the first punch. He'd never done that before. I don't know why he wanted to die so badly but I understood that it was his wish to leave this place somehow. I honored it."_

_"What was his name?"_

_Ichigo's brown eyes met his in a soft glare. He gulped and opened his mouth to take the question back but Ichigo continued. "I called him Chad."_

_"Oh."_

_"Listen to me," Ichigo said after a moment of silence. "If you ever have to fight me in that ring, kill me."_

_"What?" the dark haired slave exclaimed in a hushed yelp. "No! I won't do it!"_

_"I may never leave here any other way. I want to get out as badly as Chad did now. I'm not as broken as he was but I don't want to be here anymore. I'm asking you to do this as my friend. Do you understand?"_

_"I refuse."_

_Ichigo stared at him but not in amazed disappointment. It was more of an accepting disappointment, like he'd thought over the conversation and had expected the reaction he got. He sighed through his nose and ripped the bandages off his arms to reveal barely scabbed over cuts._

_"Fine," he sighed. "I understand. Just know that your morals are going to get you in trouble Kaien."_

"Yes," the dark haired slave murmured as he glared at Soifon over his shoulder. "I know that Soifon." The woman shrugged then.

"Alright then. Do you know that Chad was damaged goods?"

"I knew that too," the dark haired slave growled. "Let me ask you something."

"Fire away," Soifon smiled as the dark haired slave moved toward her. He squatted onto the balls of his feet, a dark smirk on his face that made her shiver. She'd seen that look on Ichigo's face once. It had been before he'd been dragged off into a separate room and left to die. She could feel the others shift in the cage to try to not look like they were listening even though they were.

"Did you know that my trainer asked me to kill him if we were ever paired against each other in the ring?" At the sight of her wide eyed look of horror, he smiled again. "I didn't think so. Not surprising though. Maybe I'm damaged goods too. I wouldn't get too close to me."

He stood and turned his back to her again. His good mood had been shaking in the beginning but now it was shattered all to hell. The slaves that were teamed with Soifon…He knew them. He'd heard Ichigo talk about their fighting skills and knew very well that they were all Top Fighters. It didn't matter though. He was a Top fighter now too. They'd better hope to god they weren't paired against him until he'd calmed down a bit more.

_You're right Ichigo_, he thought. _Those morals are going to get me killed. That's why I'm throwing them out the window so I _can_ survive here, get out, and find out what happened to you._

* * *

Grimmjow noticed multiple things about Ichigo as he watched the teenager heal. The first – and foremost – was that Ichigo was paranoid. Even if Grimmjow couldn't blame the kid for the hyperawareness, he had to also admit that it was annoying as all hell for him, the doctors, and nurses. If one person was new, the entire day was fucked because Ichigo would shut down and wouldn't let them touch him, cringing away when they got near the bed. Grimmjow found himself learning all sorts of useful tips about how to keep the kid's attention on him when they needed to draw blood. He was actually finding himself pretty good at distracting the kid without even trying. He just sat at the head of the bed and watched the doctors worked while Ichigo's eyes glued themselves to his form.

Oddly, he found himself not minding it in the least. He came so often that the receptionist would glance up and have a badge ready for him and the doctors all would wave and smile genuinely at him. He also knew very well that the youth was carrying a ton of crippling baggage and any friendship he made with Ichigo might help in the long run. The paranoia was expected what with how he had been left behind and how he was an illegal slave and illegal slaves were rarely treated well. Whatever else Ichigo had been through had seriously fucked him over and Grimmjow had to admit that the kid was doing far better than had been expected.

Another thing Grimmjow noticed was how Ichigo was like a sponge – he would listen and observe carefully, the entire time soaking up what he saw and heard and adapting it for his own survival. The really cool thing about that was that he did it all in seconds meaning he was not only hyperaware, he was smart. He knew what a word meant if a certain infliction was paired to it and he knew very damned well the difference between a simple, harmless joke and a well hidden comment that would have gone over anyone's head. Even the one the comment was aimed at.

Ichigo also had something very close to insomnia or maybe night terrors. Ichigo didn't like trying to sleep when new faces were around him even when familiar ones were. Grimmjow often found himself herding people outside of the room when Ichigo looked even remotely tired. Ichigo never fought him on much when Grimmjow's tone regressed to the trained 'Master' voice that he had heard all the time when his father was being firm. After a week, Grimmjow could look at the kid once and know how long the day was going to be for them all. The kid was pretty much an open book to Grimmjow. Every chapter was a year in Ichigo's life and at least the first ten or so years labeled but blank, waiting to be filled. Grimmjow was finding he was far too willing to try to fill those pages himself.

Presently, Grimmjow found himself watching as Ichigo's bandages were being changed. He hadn't been present for the previous rounds of this ritual in the past two months but he had come early today, before Ichigo was even awake. That alone said something and he was well aware of what it screamed. To say he was intrigued was an understatement. As the full head bandage came off, he found himself staring at slightly overgrown, bright orange hair. Bangs fell softly into Ichigo's amber eyes occasionally as the doctor – a man named Aizen Sosuke – and a nurse checked his head injuries. Sponges, damp rags, dry rags, and antibiotics were swept over the stitched up injuries with experienced accuracy and speed and the injuries were covered once again by perfectly clean bandages.

Grimmjow's blue eyes refused to leave Ichigo's hair very often but he forced them to follow the movements of the doctors. Aizen seemed to know what he was doing while the nurse seemed to be suffering from Nightingale Syndrome. Aizen didn't say anything to her, his brown eyes saying all that needed to be said while she was completely oblivious. Her own hair was an orange color as well, maybe strawberry blonde rather than orange. Her body was shapely to any straight man's eye but seeing as Grimmjow was bisexual, and his FBI training, he only saw her body as what it was: a natural blessing of heavy curves that wasn't nearly as heavily given as it was to Harribel, Matsumoto, and Neliel. In truth, the woman had maybe medium sized breasts but it he ever said that out loud he'd be looking over his shoulder for Rukia's fist.

"Are they too tight Ichigo-kun?" she asked as she and Aizen finished wrapping Ichigo's chest, her doe-like, gray eyes glowing with obvious caring that was almost always frowned upon by any experienced doctor or nurse. There were reasons nurses were told to not let their feelings take over even if they had entered the field to care for people who couldn't care for themselves. There was a reason for why Aizen's eyes seemed deadly whenever he looked at the woman but were completely unfeeling otherwise. Grimmjow found it sort of annoying how she had added the honorific '-kun' to Ichigo's name. was she planning on calling him by his last name if they found it like normal Japanese people?

Grimmjow nearly smiled with glee when Ichigo shook his head and the woman frowned slightly but nodded resolutely. Aizen suddenly excused himself saying the woman – Grimmjow hadn't bothered to remember her name – could take care of the rest. Grimmjow saw him sneak a look at a pager as he left the room, his thin lips curving in a small smile when he saw a message. What convenient timing!

"Who knew kid?" Grimmjow teased light heartedly as the woman went about tending to Ichigo's forehead. Ichigo sent him a questioning glance and Grimmjow pointed to his own vivid hair. "We're like fire and ice or ying and yang!"

Grimmjow felt joy pool in his stomach when Ichigo smiled at him after a moment was taken to process the words. Grimmjow was about to smile back when the nurse suddenly stuck her face close to his. He glared at her before he saw the look on her face. It was that bossy nurse look that basically told him that he had better go fuck himself before he _dared_ speak to _her_ patient. The temptation to smack her suddenly skyrocketed and he did the only natural thing he could; he turned on the charm and became the asinine jock he had been born to play.

"Something wrong sweetheart?" he cooed easily. Her cheeks were flushed in an amazing shade of red so fast that he was surprised he managed to not smirk as he wondered weather or not she was wet.

"N-no," she stammered, backing away from him slowly. Her face was still bright red and Grimmjow was having a hard time holding his laughter back.

"Then please don't look at me like you're above me Woman," he growled. His eyes flicked over to Ichigo to find the boy stiff and looking scared. He took a breath and glanced back at the woman calmly. "You done yet?"

"Y-yes, almost," she replied, her voice beginning to return as she watched his actions.

"Then hurry it up will you?" he snarled.

She scoffed at him but continued her work. However, Grimmjow noticed the interested looks she gave Ichigo every time she looked at him. It really was too bad her job required her to look at every inch of the youth's skin. He was more than relieved when she left even if she did continue to sneer at him. He leaned back in his chair and sighed through his nose.

"Why do you dislike her Master?" Ichigo asked his voice soft. Grimmjow twitched at the title the boy had decided to call him. It wasn't enough that he usually didn't like being called the title – he'd pretty much ordered the slaves he grew up around to call him by his name because of it – but there was something about how Ichigo said it that would simply drive him insane. He had no idea why it had that affect on him but since it did, he had tried to shut it down whenever it was said.

"How many times do I have to tell you Ichigo?" he asked exasperatedly. "You don't have to call me that. My name's Grimmjow and I liked being called by my name."

"But you're a 'Master,'" Ichigo explained. "It's obvious you are."

"Just so you know, I dropped that title a long time ago. I didn't allow my family slaves to call me that title and I would prefer you didn't call me it. I hate that title."

He pulled a manila file from his bag as he spoke, his voice bitter as memories of reunions at which the slaves had been allowed to call their owners Master or Mistress. All thanks to that large percentage of his family that _liked_ being called by those titles. Grimmjow had never understood their tastes in their titles when their names should have been good enough. He flipped the file open to reread the information of the case. Ulquiorra and Nnoitra had been slightly stunned when he'd said he was going to hang around Ichigo for the time being – they had still been recovering from the fact he'd gotten a name – and both were determined to keep him in the loop of information.

"Besides," he added after a moment of thought, "Dad always had us tell our slaves call us our names if not 'Sir' or 'Ma'am.' That's sort of stuck with me." He glanced at the door and then out the window of the room to the hall. "She annoys me. That's why I dislike her."

"What is that?" Ichigo asked, his body having shifted to a relaxed sitting position. Grimmjow glanced at him and marveled at him once more. About 99% of Ichigo's hair was showing now, spiky bangs falling over the wrapping of bandages since the full bandage was no longer necessary. Grimmjow found the look to be almost badass and it fit the boy really well. It made that fire glow even brighter than usual and Ichigo had a talent of having that flame burn even when he didn't mean for it to. It was like he had no idea of how to turn down the gas.

"A file on my case. The less you know the better."

"Is it the case that led you to me?"

"Yes," Grimmjow coughed. "It is."

"Then aren't I evidence?"

"When did I say you were evidence?" Grimmjow snapped his hands shutting the file with a snap of the wrist. "When did you get it into your head that you were property to be used, beaten, or sold?" Grimmjow noted that it was a stupid question but he had to ask it. something in him wouldn't rest until he did.

"I don't know," Ichigo murmured, his eyes downcast again. "I've been a slave for a long time. I only remember the cages, people around me, and the ring."

Grimmjow sighed. His temper still needed work when it came to certain aspects of his views on slavery. He saw slaves as equals if not superiors – thinking about what some slaves went through had made him feel they were far better than their owners – and the number of people who thought like him were few and far between. Slaves in his family had been encouraged to think of their owners as employers rather than what they really were. The slaves were asked politely for their histories but it was never demanded. The slaves would either tell them or not and even if it was the latter, the slaves all had files that told things from an owner's point of view. Hence why the files were read and taken with a grain of salt if not a pound of the stuff. It was always safer to take it with salt since the slaves' versions were far more accurate.

"Sorry. I have reasons to dislike slavery."

"That's obvious too." Grimmjow snorted at the murmured comment.

"Finding the way we did didn't help either just so you know." Grimmjow opened the file again. "You should rest."

"Why?" Ichigo asked sounding childish. "All I ever do is rest."

"You're still injured and therefore need to rest."

Ichigo sighed softly as Grimmjow let his work engross him as per usual. He reread what he'd known for months twice before moving on to the more interesting bits. The more recent dates were filled with information about the guy who had been kidnapped, Kaien Shiba, and his family. the circumstances of his abduction were still being worked out due to the fact it had happened during a party at his college. Easy access campus and easy (drunken) targets. One thing Grimmjow forced himself to notice about Kaien was how alike he and Ichigo looked. Another thing about this case that set him off.

Ichigo sighed again but laid back. Grimmjow flipped another page over and cleared his throat with slight disgust. He'd opened to the photos of Ichigo's injuries that had been taken as soon as he'd been admitted to the hospital. The pictures still sickened him greatly. As he looked over the pictures, his mind wandered to Ichigo's earlier words. It wasn't the first time this 'ring' had been mentioned.

"What is it with you and people?" he blurted.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Ichigo slurred slightly. He was on his side, his eyes drooping tiredly. Grimmjow repeated his question almost immediately.

"You freak out around new people but people you know are okay as long as you see them regularly at the least. Why is that?"

Ichigo propped himself up on his elbows, wincing slightly as he moved. "How so I explain that?" he murmured. "Uh…I…I was trained – conditioned? – to only trust people who came back and even then to be wary of them."

"Came back? What does that mean?" Grimmjow urged. He almost felt like an asshole asking Ichigo to talk. He had come in early today for more than one reason. He'd felt like it and Starrk wanted him to record as much of a day was he could. The recording device in the pocket of his jacket the hung closest to Ichigo was proof of that.

"Not all Masters want us to be unconscious at the end of it all."

"What?"

"Bloodshed is fun. It sells. Death however, sells better." Ichigo fell back again, his eyes slipping closed again. "It always sells better than simple bloodshed."

As Ichigo fell asleep, Grimmjow rolled his shoulders uneasily. It was needless to say that he had not been expecting that to come from the youth's mouth. He pulled out the digital recorder and then his laptop from his bag. He hooked the USB cord up and downloaded the recording. He sent it to Starrk under the title URGENT. He waited for his phone to buzz. It was Starrk as expected.

"Starrk?" he asked. "Did you listen to it?"

"Yes, I did." Starrk sounded tired. "You've said he doesn't trust people he doesn't know right Grimmjow?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"See if you can get him to learn our team's faces and names somehow."

"Yeah. Got it." He hung up and glanced at Ichigo. The boy looked extremely calm and almost vulnerable. Something about the youth said he'd been unable to sleep the way he was supposed to in a long time. Grimmjow could only imagine why. There really was no way for Grimmjow to know what exactly Ichigo could have gone through since it was well known how painfully injured illegal slaves could be. When they had heard that the case would include illegal slaves, the entire room had stiffened and he could only say that he, personally, wanted nothing more than to find the slaves and basically rehabilitate them.

He searched Japanese-English dictionaries on Amazon, his gut telling him it was best he did if he wanted to deal with Ichigo. The boy had a tendency to slip back to Japanese if he felt uneasy about something. If someone new passed by when Ichigo felt uneasy, Grimmjow would find himself sitting by as Ichigo babbled on. As he thought about it, he searched for electronic translators as well. There was no way he'd be able to keep up with Ichigo if the kid really got going with only a dictionary as his only weapon.

As time passed, he couldn't stop feeling restless. He found himself packing up his things and leaving to go to his work place. He had to talk to Starrk.

* * *

Ichigo awoke alone an hour later. It was a strange feeling waking up alone again. He hadn't awoken truly alone in a long time. He'd awoken once in a new area once before but he had not been as alone as he felt at this very moment. He had been surrounded by others that he had never seen in his life before. At one point in time, he was moved to another cage when he'd started fighting back from the men he had been placed with. He had been alone then for a day and a night that was all. An elder man had been placed with him soon after and that man trained him to survive. He wasn't the punching bag he had started out as; he was a fighter and he only knew that kind of world.

After a while, he and the man were no longer paired together as he climbed up to an equal level. The man was sold some time after Ichigo won against him on equal terms. Only Ichigo knew that the man had almost let him win, knowing very well that he'd be free if he lost. The days blended together after that, and Ichigo had been moved to other cages, surrounded by others. When he was moved to another single cage, he had been slightly surprised when another person was thrown in with him.

He was far more surprised by how very much the new person looked like him. The man was maybe older than him, had dark black hair, and had different history. The man had been, naturally, scared out of his mind and he had been spared from the feeling of being a punching bag to the others.

_"Who are you? Where am I?" the dark-haired twin asked, voice high with worry and frightened understanding._

_Ichigo lifted a finger to his lips. "They don't like loud slaves," he explained in the English that he'd picked up years ago. "Slaves that are too loud or speak out of place never make it out of the ring." He spoke softly, his knees up to his chest. He had been watching the man sleep fitfully for the past hour or so and was quite taken by how safe he felt around the man._

_"Slaves? I'm not a slave!"_

_"Not anymore…"_

_"W-what?"_

_"Here, your life before is nothing. You're a slave and nothing else. They won't care what your background is or was. They'll ignore it and treat you the way they want to."_

_"W-what do you mean?"_

_"What's your name?" Ichigo asked. He had been asked the same thing from his mentor. It was normal for mentors and their students to know each others' names. None of them knew when one may be sold off to someone who'd listen. Maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to save each other from their captors._

_"Kaien Shiba. What's yours?" The man crawled over closer to him as they spoke. Ichigo curled himself tighter._

_"Forget your name. We're slaves; we don't have names."_

_"I'm not going to forget my name!"_

_"You have to. They'll beat you if you don't at least pretend it never existed," Ichigo said. "I was Ichigo. That's all I remember though. I'm not Ichigo here though. I'm whatever they call me. Understand?"_

_Kaien nodded then cocked his head. "You're not American…How can you speak English so well?"_

_Ichigo smiled shyly. "I've been here a while."_

_"I don't understand this. I was kidnapped. What the hell is this?"_

_"You were taken for something that I don't know about. I don't have any power here remember? I'm to teach you how to survive the ring."_

_"Ring? What is this ring?"_

_"You'll see soon enough," Ichigo uncurled his body. "The first thing you need to know is the hierarchy. Masters and the customers are on top. Slaves are the bottom. There are four levels of slaves: punching bag which is the lowest of the low, a preliminary fighter which is the lowest form of a fighter, a secondary fighter, and a top fighter."_

_"What's the difference?"_

_"Punching bags are people that are too weak to be in the ring. They're put in the cages where the fighters are. The fighters use them as a warm up of sorts. They die young." Ichigo smirked. "I was one once before I fought back. That was when I graduated to being a fighter. I was trained by a top fighter who was named Zangetsu."_

_"Alright," Kaien stated. "How do you rise in rank?"_

_"You fight for your life. If you're against a higher fighter than you, you need three hits to win while they have to knock you out. If you're a top fighter, you're rented out to other fighting rings unless the Masters have a personal interest in you."_

_"You said you were trained by a top fighter," Kaien said after a moment of silence. "If you're training me…"_

_"I'm a top fighter," Ichigo confirmed. "I made it here in – at least I'm told – eight years? I don't know for sure though."_

_"Eight years?"_

_Ichigo nodded. "I guess it's my job to make sure you get there in less time."_

Ichigo curled himself into a tight ball. He didn't like being alone like this. He was used to waking up with someone there, near him. Zangetsu, Kaien, the doctors and nurses, and Grimmjow. As his thoughts fell upon the blue haired agent, his fears mounted when he realized what their last conversation had been about. Top fighters sometimes killed to be able to get out of the ring for at least a night. Top fighters fought top fighters more often than anything. Ichigo had only been forced to kill one person. The face still haunted him though it didn't haunt him nearly as bad as one other face did.

"_Sumimasen Okaasama_," Ichigo whispered.

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**Sumimasen = Sorry**

**Okaasama = Mother (sama is sort of an honorific like Ma'am, Master, Sir, or Madame)**

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**This chapter is a bit jumpy and long.**

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Grimmjow watched in pure agony as the others listened to the recording of Ichigo. He was somewhat thankful that they were all engrossed by their work and that the recording had become background noise to all save for the three leaders who glared at Starrk's laptop. Grimmjow walked in slowly and waited for everyone to notice him. He didn't wait long seeing as he was hard to miss at over six feet with blue hair. Nnoitra and Neliel were the first to notice him. Neliel moved over to his side with easy grace and pulled him toward the younger agents. She shoved him into a seat and sighed as she sat next to him.

"They're a bit annoyed," she whispered.

"A bit annoyed?" Nnoitra asked. "They're about to go nuclear!"

"Is it the whole recording thing?" Grimmjow asked. The group nodded. Toshiro slid into a seat next to him with a grunt and smacked his shoulder.

"Remember that chip?" he asked. Grimmjow nodded. "You're not going to believe the amount of shit I got off it!"

"I'm a little preoccupied by what people are going to say about that recording," Grimmjow muttered. He glanced at the white haired agent and was more than tempted to frown when he saw dark bags under the younger man's green eyes. "Are you sleeping here or what?"

"I'm pulling doubles! I'm serious about that chip though."

Grimmjow gaped at him and he wasn't the only one. Not only was the prodigal technician working at the Bureau with Ranjiku – a busty, ditsy, strawberry blonde who flirted with anyone who didn't piss her off and had a horrid temper – and surviving her pouncing him day and day out but he was doing that pulling double shifts?

"Get some sleep tonight alright?"

"Sure, sure Grimmjow. I'll take that up." Toshiro was sneering at him but continued on babbling about that damned chip. He cut off when Starrk and the other two leaders beckoned them all over. Starrk's eyes flitted over Grimmjow's form before falling on the others. Both Starrk and Grimmjow noticed how quickly everyone else noticed the glance.

"What have you found Toshiro?" Byakuya asked calmly. Grimmjow quickly sunk deeper into his seat, his annoyance at himself growing exponentially with each passing second. Toshiro glanced at Grimmjow's annoyed face for a second before his green eyes snapped back to Byakuya and the others.

"I managed to get some information off it," he declared rather proudly. As well he should be considering the chip wasn't found until after it was ripped from the Ichigo's skin in an MRI! Grimmjow was amazed when he didn't shoot daggers at Toshiro with his eyes at the tone of those words.

"What'd you find?" Ulquiorra managed to ask without looking at Grimmjow as the blue haired man stewed in his seat with waves aplenty of annoyance and rage flooding from his body. Nnoitra meanwhile winced as the onslaught of emotions slammed into him almost tangibly.

"I managed to get a code that opened a back door into our boys' files," Toshiro smirked. The mood in the room lifted suddenly at his words. Even Grimmjow sat straighter. He was still moody but he was in better control of it now.

"You what?" Renji asked his copper eyes wide in amazement. Toshiro's smirk got wider as Renji finished speaking.

"I found a back door," he repeated. His smile fell then. "The only problem now is that it's all the information I accessed is at least seven days old. It won't lead us very far."

"It'll do better than we had before," Kenpachi snarled, Ikkaku and Yumi nodding in agreement. Rukia patted Toshiro's shoulder and smiled in admiration. The younger man had just found them one huge god damned opening into the cell.

"This gets us in with at least a foot hold," Rukia said. "What all did that back door give you Toshiro?"

"There's a lot of stuff on the slave aspect and a bit on the gun trade. There are a few names of…certain people too." At the last three words, Toshiro glanced at Grimmjow warily. Grimmjow knew the look well enough that he didn't even bother to glare. So his family was involved apparently? He was tempted to say Damn nation but for some reason it just wasn't coming to him the way it used to. He hated his family but for some reason, his body simply didn't react to them anymore….Except when he talked to Ichigo.

"Of course there are 'certain people' Toshiro," Grimmjow husked with practiced ease. "Aren't there always certain people?"

Toshiro sighed at the reaction. He didn't know why he'd been so worried about it in the first place. He'd seen Grimmjow around his family before at parties Grimmjow had invited them all to and had been amazed that it wasn't Grimmjow being held back by force. In fact, it had been Grimmjow who'd stopped the out break of several brawls that had all stemmed from his family members making comments to his friends and co-workers. Toshiro had been surprised any of them had the gall to whisper that Rukia – of all people – was a cunt within earshot of Renji and Byakuya. Oddly enough though, they did have said gall and they didn't only do it near the petite woman's husband and brother; they'd done it near her and Grimmjow's father.

To say hell hath no fury like a woman's fury would have been a pathetic excuse of an explanation for Grimmjow's father was far more terrifying.

"Does this mean I'm getting pulled?" Grimmjow suddenly asked as he dragged his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen bored. His piercing blue eyes didn't leave the screen as he thumbed through files and apps. He wasn't tense either. It was like he'd been expecting it for a while and had not only known but he'd prepared.

Starrk, Kenpachi, and Byakuya glanced back and forth before giving the question to the group. Everyone shook their heads pleadingly. There were plenty of reasons for them to do so after all; Grimmjow was one of the best the FBI could offer when it came to certain aspects of this particular case but the fact that Ichigo really only spoke freely to him weighed heavily on their shoulders. They'd all had their own experiences with slaves but all of those had involved legal slaves that were either mortally terrified of the crime or had been pushed a bit too far at points. None of them had experienced slaves beaten so badly they might as well wish for death.

Grimmjow, however, had and had dealt with it rather well.

"I'd prefer to keep you," Byakuya spoke first causing Renji and Rukia to smile.

"Same here," Kenpachi growled. Nel smiled warmly at that.

"I'm not about to get rid of you either Grimmjow," Starrk declared. Grimmjow glanced at the three leaders before sighing through his nose and standing from his seat.

"I'm going back to check up on Ichigo," Grimmjow muttered. He'd had quite enough for one day and could only think that he'd feel better away from this portion of his work. He didn't mind the fact that he felt more comfortable around Ichigo than he did around his friends. He could admit that he couldn't vent to his friends because they knew absolutely nothing about his lifestyle and how it didn't mesh with the rest of the family's. Ichigo however knew how a beaten slave felt and was still at ease with the idea of being under someone else's thumb. It rubbed Grimmjow wrong and he wanted nothing more than to prove to Ichigo that he didn't have to have a cruel master – or any for that matter.

"Alright then," Starrk sighed. "Don't kill yourself with these shifts got it?"

"Right," Grimmjow muttered as he walked out of the room. He grabbed his bag from his desk where he'd placed it and strode for the elevator. Let Toshiro and Matsumoto explain what all was going on to the group. Someone would fill him in sooner or later if he didn't get pulled from the case first. In the lobby, he dialed the hospital to ask if it was alright to bring Ichigo some outside food. He found it odd that he was given permission but then again, the staff knew him well enough that it was almost expected. He decided on a 'Mom 'n Pop' type fast food chain that made decent food and wouldn't give him stomach troubles later. Having to order blind had been interesting for him but he was fairly sure Ichigo had been denied anything like what was in the paper bag.

"Hello there!" a cheery voice chimed as Grimmjow stepped onto the third floor. His head whipped around to find the male doctor he'd seen the first day. The man wore a yellow Hawaiian shirt under his white coat and smiled broadly. He blinked for a second or two before he realized the man had been speaking to him.

"Hey," he replied surprised. "Sorry I don't have your name."

"Isshin Kurosaki!" the man bellowed, his chest puffing up with joy. Grimmjow watched in astonishment as the man grabbed his left hand and shook it vigorously with both of his own hands. Grimmjow was thankful he had enough center mass to keep his body still otherwise he might have been a limp noodle.

"Nice to meet you Sir," Grimmjow murmured. "I'm-." He couldn't finish; Isshin beat him to it, a hand in his face and a cocky smirk on Isshin's face.

"The FBI agent," Isshin stated cleanly. "I know all about you! You're visiting…Ichigo." Grimmjow felt a brow lift at the hesitation in the man's voice as he said Ichigo''s name. As his ears focused in further on the older man's babbling, he picked up the slight hint of a Japanese accent. It was really light though and hard to detect; like Ichigo's. After the long minutes of babbling, Grimmjow managed to slip away saying he had to get the food to his charge. Isshin waved him off enthusiastically, not even noticing that Grimmjow hadn't heard a word of what he had been saying.

Grimmjow waved nervously as he walked away only sighing with relief when he was no longer facing the man. His rush to leave made him miss Isshin stop smiling when he turned to find someone next to him. The person was bandaged almost as much as Ichigo – given, it was a lesser extent – but something about the youth that glared at Isshin would have caught Grimmjow off guard. Isshin led the teenager away; his eyes glancing back to thankfully find Grimmjow was preoccupied. It wasn't enough that Grimmjow's charge was so alike to the youth he was going to scold in a few seconds for getting into yet another fight.

"Ichigo?" Grimmjow called as he entered the room. He flinched when he found Ichigo curled under the covers. The sound of strangled sobs barely filled the air but even as soft as they were, he could hear them clearly. He placed the bag on the little roll-about table and bent over Ichigo's form. "Hey, Ichigo. Talk to me will you?"

Grimmjow was slightly surprised when Ichigo pulled the blankets from his head and leaned up. Grimmjow crouched down to look Ichigo in the eye and sighed. He'd obviously missed something while he was gone and no one had been present enough to notice it and call him either. Sighing again – he did that a lot now apparently – he pulled himself into his chair and scooted up close to the bed. He propped his elbows on the bed and his chin on his hands.

"What happened after I left?" he asked carefully. Ichigo was propped on his elbows for a moment before flopping down again. He crawled to Grimmjow's arms and nuzzled close to them. Grimmjow barely managed to stop himself from shivering. Even the female slave he'd had before his cousin had his 'fun' had never done this and she was the closest one to him.

"I woke up alone," Ichigo whimpered pathetically. Grimmjow chewed his lip. "It was different from all the other times. It hurt."

Grimmjow loosened a hand out from under his chin and placed it on Ichigo's head. He petted Ichigo's hair down and watched as it bounced back up. That scared Ichigo so badly? How exactly had it done that? If that scared him so badly, how would he react to learning other people's names and faces as fast as Starrk seemed to want Ichigo to do?

"Sorry about that but…that happens sometimes Ichigo." His fingertips brushed over the youth's vivid hair almost lovingly. "I'm really sorry okay?"

Ichigo sniffed pathetically and inched closer to Grimmjow, his forehead against Grimmjow's arm. Grimmjow shook his head somewhat and chuckled inwardly. Ichigo sipped an arm out from under the blankets and wrapped his hand around Grimmjow's arm gently. It was quite odd that Ichigo was letting Grimmjow touch him but to touch back? Hell must have frozen over without Grimmjow knowing.

"You said this wasn't like before," Grimmjow prompted. "What'd you mean?"

"There were always people around me. Most of them were other slaves I had to fear but there were two that were nice."

"Who were they?"

"Old Zangetsu, my trainer I guess you could call him."

"The other?"

"My student I guess."

"You're not going to give me a name are you?" Grimmjow sighed. His fingers twined themselves into Ichigo's hair absently as he spoke. I he paused when Ichigo looked out the windows warily.

"You brought something?" Ichigo asked. Grimmjow blinked.

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling away slowly. He dragged the table closer and set the food in front of Ichigo. "It seems I'm allowed to give you junk food."

"Junk food?" Ichigo asked as he pushed himself up. "What's that?"

"It's…food that's rarely worth what they make you pay for it. This however is worth the cost," Grimmjow chuckled. "I ordered for you so I can only hope you'll like it." He held up a cheeseburger, unwrapped it, and handed it to Ichigo. Ichigo took it gingerly and began to nibble carefully at it. Grimmjow smiled at him and shook his head. He dove into his own burger and urged Ichigo to munch at the fries as well.

"You spoke to Father," Ichigo murmured suddenly, a fry at his lips.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Dad. You spoke to him. On your way in."

Grimmjow nearly choked. "He's called Isshin Kurosaki not 'Dad.'"

Ichigo cocked his head. "I called him Dad."

"How'd he react to that?" Grimmjow asked as he remembered Isshin's near inability to say Ichigo's name.

"It was really long ago," Ichigo said. "I don't really remember."

Grimmjow paused in mid-chew as he looked at Ichigo's body language. The kid wasn't looking at him but out the window. However, it seem like his eyes were actually absorbing what they saw there. The way his shoulders were set in a relaxed but slightly hunched position screamed that the kid's head wasn't in the present. Not that Grimmjow could see why the kid would even want to recognize the present, he didn't know if it was healthy to get lost in ones scrambled memories. From what Grimmjow knew about Ichigo, he could only guess that the kid's memories were slightly scrambled.

"Well, if he ends up working on you don't call him that," Grimmjow chided kindly, his mind already finding a way to profile the behavior Ichigo was exhibiting. Ichigo was calling a man Grimmjow could only be fairly sure he hadn't met before 'Dad' which could mean that Isshin probably reminded Ichigo of his real father. Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow then, his body seeming impassive but his eyes glowing with fear.

"I don't want Dad in here," Ichigo murmured, his voice trembling.

"Why?" Grimmjow asked all playfulness pushed aside for another day and time. He knew enough from interviews that he was getting somewhere finally with Ichigo's past. He couldn't just let it slip by no could he?

"I think Dad hates me," Ichigo mumbled. Grimmjow cocked his head in confusion. Why would a parent hate their kid? It didn't make much sense to Grimmjow but he'd been raised in odd circumstances compared to Ichigo's and as far as he was concerned, a parent couldn't hate their child completely. Unless of course they were heartless bastards who had no idea what they had than yes, of course they could hate a child but Grimmjow still felt that parents could only hate children when said children were misbehaving and causing damage.

"Why do you think that?" Grimmjow asked, hoping to whatever god there was that he wasn't pushing Ichigo too hard. Ichigo nibbled at his fries before answering.

"Mom died," Ichigo said softly. "I was there, Dad wasn't. Things get blurry after that. Dad might hate me for not saving her though…"

Grimmjow chewed his lip absently with a worried glance at Ichigo's fingers as they picked at the fries blindly. The youth continued to stare out the window as if it was a looking glass that looked at his past clearly but still refused to give him the answers he wanted. Grimmjow's piercing eyes fell to the floor as he thought back to this morning's conversation. This was an odd way to return after speaking of bloodshed selling well. He could have sworn he'd left Ichigo after hearing about blood and guts being spilled in the ring and after that, he had not expected Ichigo to suddenly act like a scorned child that feared being left alone. However, if any of the profiling was right, Grimmjow had a feeling that if Ichigo was going to break down completely, it wouldn't be completely indivisible from what the teams had found in that wall. Hell, it would probably be nearly the same in every way.

"I doubt a father could hate his kids," Grimmjow found himself blurting. Ichigo glanced at him, his brown eyes burning still with that challenging fire but managing to still look filled with hope and doubt. Grimmjow cleared his throat. "Do you think you could learn a few faces and names for me Ichigo?"

Ichigo nodded slowly, his eyes betraying his questioning mind. Grimmjow couldn't help but want to laugh. He managed to smother it though and continued on.

"My team needs the information you've got tucked in your little head," Grimmjow explained carefully. "I'll bring some pictures and give you names that'll go with said pictures. Sound good to you?" Another nod came in response, this on with confused eyes as well. Grimmjow smiled. "Cool. I'll bring them tomorrow okay?"

Ichigo gave him another affirmative nod and Grimmjow pushed the soda he'd bought from a vending machine downstairs out from his pocket. It was still cooler than the room temperature and he shoved it to Ichigo. The orange headed youth looked at it perplexed for a moment before Grimmjow sighed and opened it for him. As soon as it cracked open, hissing with all its glory, Ichigo stiffened and backed away from it. Grimmjow couldn't help himself; he laughed. He covered his mouth with a fist as he leaned to the side and laughed so hard his sides ached and protested. When he managed to open his eyes again, Ichigo was glaring at him, a pillow in his hands, poised and ready to be thrown.

"It's just soda," Grimmjow snorted as he clutched his side. Ichigo glared harder at the teal haired man before him and then snatched the can away from his fingers. He glared at the can as if it were going to bite him for a moment before taking a sip. Something about how the fire in his molten brown eyes died made Grimmjow think he'd hit a memory key for Ichigo began to slowly chug the drink, his eye slipping closed almost erotically. When Ichigo came up for air, he sighed contentedly.

"Ever have soda before?" Grimmjow found himself asking. Ichigo cocked his head at the can and shrugged.

"I don't know for sure."

Grimmjow sighed. Of course the boy didn't know for sure. He was calling a man he'd never met 'Dad' and muttering about how 'Dad' probably hated him. That still confused Grimmjow to no end. What could possibly make Ichigo think his father – whoever that could be – hated him? Was it possible that Ichigo came from a rich family that looked down on Slaves? Or was it something else completely? Grimmjow could only guess what lay under Ichigo's cryptic words but something told him to keep digging. He was happy to blame his training on it considering he always did.

"I've gotta get home and sort through my pictures alright?" Grimmjow said after Ichigo finished the soda. Ichigo nodded at him, his eye betraying how he felt. Grimmjow patted his head and ruffled his hair. He didn't know where the movement had come from but he was fine with it. "See you tomorrow Ichigo."

"'Bye," Ichigo called back softly as the door closed. He sank back into his bed and sighed heavily. He still felt alone but it was better than it had been earlier. At least this time, he had a promise that Grimmjow would be back. He could live with that.

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**Sorry for the glitch!**

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

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Ichigo picked up names and faces quickly, Grimmjow noted with unimaginable glee. Ichigo was also getting better around people he knew little about by the second day of learning every agent's face and name that Grimmjow could have thought of. Toshiro had been the sacrificial lamb so to speak and had showed up as unexpectedly as he dared. He'd warned Grimmjow but never said what time he'd appear. At lunch, Grimmjow was about to leave to get food from somewhere outside of the hospital when he ran into Toshiro who was carrying Chipotle bags and cups. The teal haired man blinked confusedly and then led Toshiro to the room to meet Ichigo.

"Toshiro," Ichigo had stated plainly, his eyes slightly wide and his body a bit tense but other than that he seemed fine with the abrupt drop in. Toshiro nodded and went to explaining what he'd brought. As glad as Grimmjow was that Toshiro remembered his favorite combination, he was surprised the white haired technician had dared for Ichigo's food. Usually, Ichigo didn't let anyone other than Grimmjow or – again – certain nurses or doctors.

"What did you get him?" Grimmjow asked Toshiro in a hushed whisper.

Toshiro shrugged. "Steak burrito with pinto beans, mild salsa, sour cream, cheese, and…" he reached into the bag to reveal a small plastic container, "vinaigrette if he wanted it."

"In other words, you picked out what you eat."

"What else could I give him?" Toshiro asked his voice shocked. "Kenpachi and the others either have it too bland or too spicy. I, at least, have a milder taste than you. It was all I could get him."

Grimmjow had to admit the point in Toshiro's words. Chipotle put too much rice in for a vegetarian meal to be useful in the way of nutrients. There had to be some meat in the food to have any health use at all. Grimmjow had tried the extremely spicy stuff they served too and had found it a bit much hence why he stayed with the mild and green chili. However, it seemed Ichigo could have cared less seeing as he took one bite and looked like he wanted to devour the damned thing.

"Slow down kid," Grimmjow chided. "You'll choke."

"Try this on it," Toshiro suggested, holding up the vinaigrette. Ichigo nodded and did so. He'd eaten half the burrito before he even noticed the drink in front of him. Toshiro shook his head in amazement. The shorter man pulled Grimmjow out of the room for a moment to speak to him privately.

"What?"

"He seems better than your reports claim."

"He is Tosh but even I can't tell when he'll regress!"

Toshiro grimaced at Grimmjow's words, seeing the point all too easily. Just because Ichigo was alright one day, he wasn't necessarily going to be better the next day or even the next week. Toshiro glanced back into the room and saw that Ichigo had finished his food only to attack his drink. The orange haired youth's brown eyes glowed as they glanced at him. Grimmjow noted the fire was still present but remained in a subsided state. Yet, despite that, Toshiro still shivered as those molten chocolate orbs fixed onto his form.

"Intimidating isn't he?" Grimmjow asked as Ichigo's eyes flitted away and to the window. Grimmjow smirked when Toshiro nodded, his eyes wide.

"What's with that fire?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "I have no idea. It was there before I came along. I find it exhilarating personally." He grinned his shit-eating grin and crossed his arms over his chest as he glanced at Toshiro's amazed face. Then Toshiro glared at him somewhat pityingly.

"Of course you would," he muttered. "Why do you think we can't put you undercover in fight clubs?"

"Can't? I thought it was more like 'absolutely won't happen in this life time!'" Grimmjow laughed. Toshiro sighed and nodded.

"It was now that my memory serves me right." Grimmjow chuckled at Toshiro's snotty undertones. He'd expected as much from the white haired prodigy.

"Are you planning on bringing more people around here or not?" Grimmjow asked after a few moments of silence. His cyan eyes had caught sight of Isshin once more. The elder man looked haggard and ready to fall over as he leaned against a wall, reading his charts carefully. As tempting as it was to go and ask what could be wrong, Grimmjow stayed put. He'd experimented with speaking to Isshin once or twice before and had come up with the same results: Isshin wouldn't come near the room Ichigo was in and Ichigo would freak out about what Isshin might have said. Grimmjow had stopped only to ease the feelings both seemed to carry.

"I might. I'll be happy to warn you ahead of time," Toshiro replied carefully as he watched Ichigo ball up the foil his food had been wrapped in and tossed it into the wastebasket. The next thing to go was the paper bag and then the cup. Everything he threw landed perfectly in the basket and Toshiro marveled at it.

"Should I be warning Ichigo is the real question isn't it?"

"If you wish, Grimmjow. I'm going home but I'll say good bye first." Toshiro smirked as he watched Grimmjow twitch at the exact understanding of Toshiro's words. Toshiro had basically stated what everyone else thought of his relationship with Ichigo. It was only apparent that the boy preferred to listen to him over Starrk. Hell, if anyone was closer to Ichigo than Grimmjow was, it would have been difficult to believe. Even Grimmjow had a hard time thinking someone knew the boy better despite the fact there had to be someone who knew him before everything.

"See you tomorrow Toshiro," Grimmjow said easily. Toshiro nodded and gave his good byes to Ichigo. Grimmjow was slightly surprised that Ichigo smiled in return and waved. Toshiro left with a wave to Grimmjow and the blue haired man swore he saw Toshiro flip his phone open as the elevator doors closed. He glanced back at Isshin who was now speaking to one of the female doctors – the one with long black hair braided under her chin.

"Grimmjow? You seem annoyed with something," Ichigo murmured as Grimmjow entered the room again. Grimmjow sighed. Of course the kid saw right through him. He always seemed able to do so.

"Some of the others may be showing up for a while," Grimmjow replied, forcing a smile to his face. Ichigo cocked his head and then shrugged as if he'd foreseen it. Grimmjow collected his trash and threw it in the garbage. Ichigo leaned back against the pillows and glanced out the window to stare in revulsion at the incoming squall line. Grimmjow flopped into his chair and watched as Ichigo glared at the darkening cloud cover.

"I hate rain," Ichigo muttered darkly. Grimmjow lifted a brow in interest but waited for Ichigo to stop looking at the clouds. When he didn't, Grimmjow cleared his throat to earn Ichigo's attention.

"Why?" he asked.

"Mom died in the rain." Ichigo's smoldering eyes glowed brighter and he let them fall back to the squall line. Grimmjow's stomach churned as he digested the words.

"If you want to talk about it…" Grimmjow began, his mouth moving faster than his brain. He shook his head and waved his hand. He wasn't going to push Ichigo into talking. Not when it seemed that painful to even think about.

"I don't remember much about it," Ichigo murmured. "I just remember rain, strangers, a knife, blood, and Mom defending me."

Ichigo's hands flashed to his face, coving it as his body began to shake. He moaned as if he were in pain then. Grimmjow was up in a flash, seating himself on the bed next to Ichigo and wrapping his arms around Ichigo's trembling shoulders. It was strange to see the youth seem so scared for his life but even his garbled memory was enough to set Grimmjow on edge. Even he, who didn't care if blood was spilt because he saw it as fun and necessary, was freaked out by the clearness of what little Ichigo remembered even if it wasn't clear enough to make any real sense. There was enough to get an idea though.

"I don't remember," Ichigo whimpered. "Aren't I supposed to remember things like that Grimmjow? Isn't it wrong to forget things like that?"

"Hush Ichigo, hush. It's not your fault if you can't remember! People deal with trauma in different ways. You've just…stored it away to get away from it that's all."

"But…Aren't you supposed to remember those things?"

"Not always. Some times it's better to not remember traumatic events. Besides…You've been fighting in those rings for a while haven't you? How many blows to the head did you take exactly? Who knows? You may have a damaged brain from it all."

Ichigo's trembling slowed to a stop but he continued to keep his hands over his face. His shoulders rose and fell heavily and Grimmjow could feel his lungs straining against withheld sobs. Grimmjow propped his head on top of Ichigo's and held the boy tighter. He'd seen the MRI results himself and – from personal experience – had recognized the remains of head injuries. Skull fractures and hemorrhaging that had healed – probably slowly – and possible concussions that had impaired him for a while had littered the images and Grimmjow had been slightly sickened by it all. He still had yet to show the X-rays and MRI images to the others in the team but he knew he would have to sooner or later. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of showing the pictures of all the healed bones and even the pictures of injured organs.

"So…It's alright to forget?"

"Yes Ichigo. It's okay to forget something like that."

"But…I _want_ to remember!" Ichigo sobbed, throwing his face into Grimmjow's chest causing the bigger man to gasp as air escaped his lungs forcefully. Ichigo sobbed forcefully into his chest, tears soaking into Grimmjow's clothes. Part of Grimmjow was glad he'd worn something less important and another – larger – part of him could have cared lass what he was wearing at that moment. His grip on the youth became tighter as Ichigo's sobs became wrenchingly painful.

"There's nothing wrong with not remembering," Grimmjow pleaded softly – unsure of where these feelings came from and at that moment, he didn't care. He just wanted Ichigo to stop crying over memories that even he could tell were better left forgotten. "It's alright to not remember what happened."

"If I don't know, I'll never understand!"

"I think it's better to not remember. With what little you _do_ remember, it's enough to make me nervous." Grimmjow scoffed then. "I take blood being spilt well but damn it, your fractured memory is sickening."

Ichigo wrapped his arms around Grimmjow's waist tightly and Grimmjow rubbed his back slowly and comfortingly. Ichigo continued to sob until the tears slowed to a stop. Ichigo continued to lay there, comfortable in the larger man's strong hold. He couldn't help but remember how it felt to be in a fatherly embrace like Zangetsu and…his real father. Yet, Grimmjow's hold felt strangely safer to be in than Zangetsu's ever had been. Zangetsu could only hold him in the cage when they slept or in a fight to get him out of harm's way. Ichigo could barely remember his father's hold. This felt more…permanent.

"You should sleep up," Grimmjow said after a few silent minutes. Ichigo's grip suddenly tightened then. Grimmjow patted his back. "I'll come back tomorrow okay? Come on. You need to sleep."

"I don't want you to go. You feel safe." The words were hardly more than a husky whisper and yet Grimmjow heard them clearly. "Don't leave. Please."

"Alright. I'll stay but only until you're asleep." Grimmjow kicked off his shoes and tossed his legs onto the bed as he leaned back. Ichigo scooted up a bit so his head was on Grimmjow's chest, his arm still thrown over Grimmjow's stomach. Ichigo was asleep in seconds but Grimmjow remained, his eyes slipping closed as fatigue began to grip him soothingly. When his eyes flicked open again, it was late in the night and rain was pouring with vengeance. He glared out the window until a soft knock hit the window to the hall way. His head whipped to see Isshin waving at him. He divested himself form Ichigo's grip and padded over to the door.

"Need a ride?" Isshin asked kindly, his eyes flicking to Ichigo's sleeping form.

"I do actually," Grimmjow whispered. "Will you give me one?"

"Sure. Come on, get your things and follow me." Isshin turned for a moment until he paused and tossed something at Grimmjow. Grimmjow caught it and nearly died laughing when he realized it was a toy – a cat playing with a yarn ball. He smiled at the elder man and went to collect his things, leaving the toy with Ichigo before departing.

"How's he doing?" Isshin asked in the car, the rain pounding the roof. Grimmjow shivered as he thought about how he still had to get to his front porch in that crap.

"Well I guess. I'm not a shrink so I can't help him with everything."

"You're beginning to get quite a few comments about how well he's doing since you started coming in. I hear he had an extra visitor today," Isshin rambled cheerfully.

"Yeah. One of my coworkers. We're introducing him to them."

"Well, good luck to you. I personally like the idea seeing as sooner or later, he's going to have to be around others right?" Grimmjow nodded in response and chuckled to himself as Isshin began rambling on and on about his family. The man had two daughters and a son. The son was probably about Ichigo's age while the girls were maybe four years younger. The girls were twins too. As Grimmjow listened, he couldn't help but realize that Isshin avoided speaking of the son too often and the man also never mentioned a wife. Yet, there was a wedding ring that gleamed in the scarce lighting of the car.

"Thanks Sir," Grimmjow chimed as he readied himself to leap out of the car.

"No problem! I look forward with seeing your other friends!" Grimmjow smiled and leapt into the torrent of rain and raced to his door step.

Isshin smiled and drove away as soon as his car door was shut. The man shivered again as the image of Ichigo flashed into his mind once more. He refused to believe it but it was highly possible considering how much the boy resembled the one he'd lost. Then again, he wasn't about to believe just because of images. He wanted – preferred – DNA results. He was more than willing to wait for them.

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**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**So sorry this is late. School is literally kicking my ass and beating me like I'm a dead horse. Damned Stagecraft and musical. Damned other stuff. Where's mah coffee!**

* * *

A month and a half passed as Ichigo finished healing and met everyone else on the team. He did well with his physical therapy – even if he was a bit too good at some of it. He met every one else with about the same amount of eerie calm that he'd met Toshiro with. Grimmjow watched as Ichigo interacted with them, the entire time keeping them at arm's length as if he couldn't consider doing it any other way. He found himself being given looks from the others that screamed that the youth was just like him. He wasn't sure why they all seemed to think that but as he watched Ichigo continue on with the whole "keeping everyone at arm's length" act he couldn't help but remember when he was starting out. It was all he'd ever done as well.

As time went on, Grimmjow began to see more and more of Isshin Kurosaki as the man passed by on day to day routines. Every time he was about, Grimmjow made a point of trying to speak to the elder man. Every time he did, he felt like he wasn't getting anywhere with either Isshin or Ichigo. Isshin was still resistive when it came to saying Ichigo's name and it was apparent Ichigo still thought of the elder man as a father figure. As the others met Ichigo, Grimmjow found himself routinely leaving the orange haired youth with his friends to try to speak to Isshin. The elder man reacted to his visits as if it were natural, casual conversation between friends. It was odd to see the elder man acting as if he'd known Grimmjow for years rather than a few weeks. Grimmjow tried to take it in stride but he couldn't shake his feeling that Isshin was hiding something. He wasn't sure what it was but he had a feeling he wouldn't like it when he _did_ learn of it. He was somewhat sure that the only time Isshin heard about Ichigo's condition was when he spoke to Aizen or Grimmjow. He was sure that Isshin really wanted nothing to do with Ichigo but his feeling was refusing to budge.

Isshin, however, continued to watch Ichigo's progress from a distance but he did so in such a careful way that no one realized he was doing it at all. He watched Grimmjow hover about Ichigo as the boy learned to walk again and began to build more normal looking muscle mass. He watched as Grimmjow's friends walked around him warily and yet looked at him as if he were a little brother they wanted to protect with all of their strength. He watched as Ichigo seemed to gravitate to Grimmjow's side whenever he felt - or seemed - threatened. Grimmjow - who seemed more threatening than most of his friends - seemed to become a different person around the boy and watching him bounce between personalities while his co-workers were present was interesting. He was closed off to his friends but open to Ichigo; and he did it at the same time, maintaining each side perfectly.

He was even more impressed by how much respect Grimmjow's co-workers had for him even though most of them seemed to be superior to him a many ways. Isshin didn't see why exactly until Ichigo spazed at something - he never learned what it had been - and Grimmjow was the fastest to react. The taller, blue haired man pulled Ichigo into his arms and held him tightly whispering something to him after bellowing an order at his friends. It was apparent that the man had a sense of command that could not be disputed for the others moved easily to the beat of his drumming. Grimmjow moved Ichigo back into his room, calmed him, called for Aizen, and then simply took charge of the problem as if it was second nature.

Once again, Isshin was impressed by Grimmjow's way of holding himself. Something screamed out at the father of three that Grimmjow had been around slaves like Ichigo once before but was handling it better this time apparently. Isshin watched carefully as the others seemed to hover on Grimmjow's moods and actions while being independent of each other as well. Isshin was somewhat amazed at how well they worked together without acting like a single unit or separate groups. Some things about the entire group seemed to make Isshin completely at ease while, at the same time, they made him worry about his safety being in the government's hands. Grimmjow was terrifying in his own right. Kenpachi, Nnoitra, Ulquiorra, Ikkaku, and even Renji were something to worry about in their own rights as well.

The women were even scarier considering they managed to talk the hospital staff into letting them keep their guns on their hips...Openly. Nel seemed easy going and all but Isshin had seen her smile at Orihime when she began to get really close to Ichigo - the way she always seemed to - and had felt his blood freeze. Rukia managed to look completely innocent when she spoke to Aizen but Isshin knew how to read body language - a teenager in his house and patients trying to hide things from him had caused the talent to surface - and he knew when a woman disliked a guy. Aizen did too; it became natural for the brown haired doctor to wander towards Grimmjow or the tired looking brunette named Starrk. It was thanks to Rukia, Nel, and Harribel that most of the confrontations seemed to disappear from the halls of the hospital.

Isshin watched carefully as Grimmjow dragged Ichigo to Aizen's office for one of his routine check ups and marveled at how half hearted Ichigo's struggles were. Even Grimmjow's grip on his upper arm was loose as he led Ichigo along. Ichigo was pouting somewhat and muttering that he didn't like the routine check-up but even his tone wasn't telling the whole truth. Isshin felt a pang of jealousy that he'd never expected to feel again as he watched Grimmjow almost baby Ichigo into the room. He knew well enough that that kind of jealousy meant his feelings were running rampant and that he should be beating them back into their carefully created cage. It was proof that he was believing his hunches faster than he was waiting for a chance for DNA tests to be administered. His gut was running off with his rationality and he didn't like it. He had to keep a rational head about this. His children's trust in him depended on it. His surviving son's temperaments depended on him not mentioning what Ichigo looked like. It was extremely important to not say Ichigo was anyone other than an "injured slave the FBI was interested in."

He watched Aizen smile at the two before his door, his smile seemingly sincere for once, and waved the two in. Ichigo seemed subdued as he stumbled through the door. Grimmjow was chuckling as he maneuvered Ichigo into the room, his blindingly white teeth glowing from behind his lips as he smirked. Aizen was speaking to Ichigo softly and Ichigo seemed to be replying well enough that his questions - if that was what they were - as he was propped on a chair. Grimmjow closed the door behind him. Isshin shook himself and marched off to his next patient. He was beginning to dislike his job suddenly. The amount of hate he was beginning to feel for Grimmjow was crippling and he wanted to expel it from his body as quickly as possible. However, it refused to disappear and he had a job to do.

Thank god he was so good at pretending things weren't wrong.

* * *

"I'm going to be staying with you Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked, his tone surprised and confused. His fiery brown eyes were dulled slightly but still strong in their own strange light. Grimmjow still found himself stirred by that fire. It was like he wanted to make it brighter when, at the same time, he wanted to extinguish it. He didn't want to admit that he really wanted to see how bright it could become because he feared the reaction form the others. He also feared the idea that Ichigo might lose that fire if he tried too hard to get it brighter. He feared loosing the fire but he feared it becoming too powerful to control. His mind was confused about how to act around Ichigo and how to act around his friends without letting on.

"Yes," Grimmjow stated calmly. He was sitting on the side of the bed, a smile on his angular face. In his hand was a file folder that he'd been looking into for the case. On the floor sat a bag full of clothes that Matsumoto had helped him find and buy. He wasn't sure about how Ichigo would react to them but he knew very damned well that the kid couldn't wear his smallest clothes. Not to mention, Matsumoto had a talent for picking out clothes for other people. He knew she did; everyone knew she did. Toshiro knew it the best considering how many sweaters and other clothes she tended to get him for Christmas. Grimmjow was also aware of how nice all of the clothes looked on their new owners.

"Why? I thought...I thought..." His brow furrowed as he thought over Grimmjow's words again. Grimmjow sighed in resignation. He hadn't expected Ichigo to take the news of how Ichigo was going to be living with him until further notice - more like indefinitely - but he hadn't expected Ichigo to half shut down.

"You thought what?" he prompted.

"I thought the...Bureau was going to own me now."

Grimmjow resisted the urge to scream. He should have expected someone to have mentioned it to Ichigo that, as (technically) evidence, he belonged to the Bureau. It was a gray area type of thing that really drove Grimmjow nuts. Evidence was usually property of a person or multiple persons. A Slave was property. As a Slave, Ichigo was property and therefore, evidence. It was rare for Slaves to be anything other than witnesses and Ichigo was, sadly, more than a witness to what the men were doing.

"Yeah well..." Grimmjow rubbed the back of his neck. "I pulled a few strings. You have to understand that the FBI hates the complications gray areas bring and let's just say you are a gray area."

"How?" Ichigo asked. He'd cocked his head as Grimmjow had spoken about gray areas. All Grimmjow could think off was one of his little cousins who'd bonded to him - for whatever reason - and had introduced him to Manga and Anime. Anthropomorphism had been one of her favorites. Long story short, Grimmjow could see orange cat ears poking out of Ichigo's vivid hair. He bit back the urge to drool.

"The slaves the Bureau usually works with are witnesses rather than evidence. You are a witness as well as evidence."

"How am I evidence again?" Grimmjow snorted. Why was he not surprised that Ichigo had forgotten what had made him evidence in the first place.

"You are - were - property of the guys our team is trying to go after and catch. You're also evidence that they have fight clubs running with slaves as fodder. You also are evidence that there may be more shit going on behind the proverbial curtain."

"Alright," Ichigo replied, his tone sounding like he was following easily but he also sounded like he was having a difficult time believing that things were the way they were.

"As a grey area, the Bureau was somewhat...uh...heh...uneasy about keeping you. Not only do they have anything for you to do if they decide to keep you on as anything, they also have no place to keep you. You trust very few people - though they have grown in number lately - and that puts you in a harder place because it means you may not go to anyone's house. Very few people will take in someone that has been...treated the way you have been. Let's say they fear your...mood swings?"

Ichigo nodded slowly as if he understood. How could he not understand? It wasn't a very well hidden secret that Ichigo was unstable in the eyes of many people. Even Ichigo didn't feel like he was stable in any way possible. He'd admitted it thoroughly to Grimmjow on more than one occasion. Aizen had been privy to at least one of those talks and had reacted considerably well considering everything. Aizen was also a physiatrist for the hospital for certain cases and had managed to shed a bit of light onto the fact that Ichigo was far more stable than he should have been. That made things seem a tad bit brighter.

"So...Why am I staying with you?" Ichigo asked warily.

"Well," Grimmjow smiled. "The strings I pulled made it possible for me to buy you as mine." He smiled at how wide Ichigo's eyes became. "I have the papers to prove I own you. I also have the permission of the Bureau for you to be in the Bureau's walls as my...Personal Helper. I've also made up your room." He leaned down and brought the bag up for Ichigo to see it. "Matsumoto helped me get you clothes."

"I...I belong to...you?"

Grimmjow nodded as he placed the bag on Ichigo's legs. He watched as Ichigo thought through things carefully.

"Yes Ichigo. You belong to me now." Grimmjow laid a hand on Ichigo's shoulder and squeezed it gently. As time had passed, Ichigo had begun to allow more people to touch him even if it was for brief periods of time. Grimmjow and Aizen were the ones who were really able to get close to him now and it was almost apparent that it was really Grimmjow who was trusted more. Aizen didn't seem to mind though. He was actually happier to watch the interaction between the two men.

"But..." Ichigo murmured, his eyes darting to the bright blue of Grimmjow's eyes and then to Grimmjow's hand. When those deep brown eyes returned to Grimmjow's blue, the fire was slightly more dulled but it shook with fear and anticipation. "Why? Why would you...take me in?"

"Because Ichigo, you're my responsibility as part of this case and because you seem to like me more than the others. I also need a bit of help around my place anyway so," he shrugged, "why not take you in?"

Ichigo's eyes darted over Grimmjow's face as he processed the elder man's words. He wanted to be sure that he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. He didn't want to get his hopes up too high. He'd done that before thinking that Zangetsu might come back from whatever had taken him away. He wanted to know that it wasn't a lie. He had to know it wasn't a lie.

"I'm really staying with you?" he asked, his voice shaking. Grimmjow's brow furrowed at the trembling. He placed his hand on both of Ichigo's cheeks and whipped the salty drips that had beaded from Ichigo's chai eyes away with his thumbs.

"Yes. You really are staying with me," he said calmly despite the fact he wanted to roar out in rage at how Ichigo was reacting. He hadn't expected that type of reaction. Ichigo blinked in surprise though. He hadn't expected himself to cry. He hated the feeling of weakness that pooled in his stomach.

"S-sorry," Ichigo whispered as his hands flew to wipe his eyes. "_Gomenasai_."

"Relax Ichigo. Take a breath will you? Why are you crying?"

"I didn't want...to get my hopes up. That's all."

Grimmjow smiled wryly and patted Ichigo on the head. "Don't scare me like that will you please? Jeeze. It reminds me too much off..." Grimmjow broke off. He couldn't continue that sentence.

"Reminds you of what Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked innocently. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as Ichigo finished his question, their own icy fire beginning to lick at the edges of his eyes. Ichigo flinched slightly and Grimmjow's eyes softened.

"How we found you," he muttered somewhat bitterly. "It reminds me of how we found you." He shifted to stand and jabbed a finger at the bag on Ichigo's legs. "Try those on will you? I'm gonna talk to Aizen and sign your discharge papers."

As he walked through the door, Ichigo peeked into the bag and lifted a brow. He wasn't sure what on earth Matsumoto had gotten him but he was fairly sure it had probably been well made considering she was said to be good with clothes. He kicked himself free of the blankets and padded to the bathroom with the bag in his hands.

He closed the door and peered back into the bag. He pulled out the package of clean underwear and freed a pair of black briefs from the packaging. He slipped out of his hospital pants and underwear and slipped into the new pair. They fit like a glove and he bent to pull a pair of black pants with red stitching. A few chains clinked as he pulled the pants on. They too fit perfectly.

Next, he pulled out a shirt that was a form fitting tank top-like wife beater. Over that, he pulled on a red, button-up shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. The shirt was slightly transparent if put up to the light and was covered in Celtic knot designs. Ichigo recognized them from when he'd been in what he'd heard to be called Ireland. Some of the slaves had been covered in blue paint in Celtic knots and other designs. Ichigo remembered being in the ring in only a pair of ratty sweat pants, blue paint beginning to itch on the surface of his skin. His opponent had been big. He shook himself out of his stupor – it couldn't be real – and slipped on the black socks and the sneakers that had been left in the bag for him.

For some reason, he remembered tying his shoes with ease. He guessed there were things that, as Grimmjow and Aizen had claimed, were "safe" to remember. Ichigo could only guess what would be believed as "safe" and he wasn't positive that it would lead to anything useful. He still wanted to remember what he didn't understand. The time to remember felt like it was coming closer but he couldn't be sure that he was correct about the feeling. He wanted to be but it was harder to feel certain for some reason. Sighing, he stuffed the remaining clothes back into the bag and dragged it out with him.

"Wow," Nurse Orihime gushed once he walked out of the bathroom. He stiffened slightly. He wasn't sure about this woman. The way she looked at him didn't feel right to him. Maybe it was dealing with people who looked at him as if he were a piece of meat or as if he were very fragile; like he had to be protected from the world. He probably did for all he knew though seeing as he so little of his memory was intact.

"Nurse?" he asked softly.

"You look so…Wow," she breathed. Ichigo made himself stay still as she walked up closer to him, her doe-like eyes becoming somewhat – what would Grimmjow call it? – lidded with something that he was unsure of. He wanted to back away from her but was unsure of what would happen if he did so.

"I guess I should say thank you Nurse," Ichigo managed, his back stiff.

"Ichigo!" Grimmjow bellowed suddenly. Ichigo's head whipped away from the nurse and to Grimmjow's form outside the room. He bowed to the nurse and breezed past her murmuring his apologies. Grimmjow was still looking at the papers he needed to sign – one of the secretaries had come up per his request – and so he had not noticed what exactly Ichigo was wearing or what he'd just saved the youth from. He signed another line just before Ichigo slammed into his arm.

"Jeeze," Grimmjow grunted. "What the hell?" Turning to find Ichigo wide-eyed he tensed slightly and kicked into what he decided to name his 'protective' mode of action. "What's wrong Ichigo?"

"No idea," Ichigo muttered. "Something about…how she looks at me doesn't…feel right to me for some reason."

Grimmjow's eyes glanced at the room to see Orihime – Nightingale Syndrome – wobbling out of Ichigo's room. They were about to narrow into a glare when he saw Aizen call her over. The brown haired doctor looked pissed but was very casual about it. Grimmjow smirked at her and patted Ichigo on the shoulder.

"It's being handled apparently," he chuckled as he returned his attention to the papers. _Too many things to sign_, he thought as he scrawled his name once more. "Am I done?"

"Yes Sir," the secretary stated with a smile. "Ichigo!" Her eyes bugged slightly as she took in his new wardrobe. She glanced at Grimmjow and shook her head. "No way. No way did _you _pick that outfit out," she laughed as she pointed at Grimmjow, her smile growing. "No guy has _that_ good of taste."

Grimmjow lifted a brow and glanced over at Ichigo to see what she was speaking of. He nearly dropped to the floor, his knees giving out as soon as he saw how good Ichigo looked. Ichigo still had a few wrappings on his wrists, hands, and arms. Grimmjow knew well enough that there was still some on the youth's legs but the Tripp pants covered those well enough. The t-shirt was loose in comparison to the wife beater but was also no good in hiding what wrappings were on Ichigo's arms and hands. Against his tan skin, the red looked almost crimson and against the black of the wife beater it was an even brighter red. Grimmjow blinked as he shook himself back into reality.

"Female co-worker," he managed to choke out to the secretary. She chuckled lightly and nodded in understanding. She'd seen Grimmjow's co-workers visit. She also knew that the well endowed Matsumoto was probably the only one who knew really anything about clothes besides the other girls in the group.

"Have a good time," she managed through her chuckles. She glanced at Ichigo and smiled broadly. "You look great Ichigo." She motioned carefully, asking silently if she could speak into his ear. He nodded slowly, licking his lips. He'd been able to meet her on one of his walks through the hospital with the other agents. She leaned up to his ear and whispered, "If anything happens, you call Aizen. No matter what, you got it?"

He nodded.

"Good boy Ichigo," she smiled at him. She straightened and waved her farewells to them as she tapped away.

"'Bye," Ichigo murmured as he waved somewhat half heartedly. He met Grimmjow's slightly wide blue eyes and smiled softly. Grimmjow smiled back, his mind still reeling at Matsumoto's clothing choice, and laid a hand on the small of Ichigo's back.

"Come on," he said confidently. "I have to show you where _we _are living don't I?" Ichigo nodded enthusiastically and let Grimmjow lead him to the elevator.

They reached the lobby with relative ease when Rukia and Nel clicked up to them in office wear. Grimmjow's hand fell to his side in seconds and his face hardened into his usual 'work-place-face' as the girls came closer. Ichigo's hand tightened around the handles of the bag, his knuckles turning white. Rukia and Nel however were smiling gently and Nel wrapped Ichigo up in a tight hug as she giggled with glee.

"Oh my gosh you look great Ichigo!" she sputtered as she released him. He looked at her, dazed for a moment at her actions before he shook his head and looked up at Grimmjow confused. He had been so sure something was wrong. He hadn't expected her to hug him outright. He wasn't even sure he was ready to be touched like that yet, he hadn't freaked out nearly as badly as he could have.

"Thank you," Ichigo murmured to Nel when he was sure of his voice again. She smiled brightly at him and pulled him into a hug once more. Rukia rounded them to pat Ichigo reassuringly on the back. Her smile was warm and comforting but Ichigo couldn't help but feel it was dull compared to when Grimmjow smiled at him.

"Matsumoto and her talent for picking clothes," Rukia sighed almost jealously. She was surprised at how good Ichigo looked in the new clothes. The wrappings on his arms only added to his mysterious qualities seeing as she was finding herself tempted to rip the bandages off to see what he was hiding under them. She resisted though.

"Yeah, she's really good isn't she?" Grimmjow chuckled, his face softening as he realized that they seemed to have only good news with them.

"Going to your place Grimm?" Nel asked casually, her coal eyes smirked.

"Yeah," Grimmjow stated. "Why?"

"Just wanted to know," Nel chimed, her smile growing too much. Grimmjow grimaced at the look in her eyes. "What?" she added innocently.

"Are you two going to help me move him in?" Grimmjow asked with ease. The girls looked at each other and smirked. When they looked back at him, they nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes," they chimed in perfect unison. Grimmjow snorted and dragged Ichigo to the car.

"Is…Is this…uh…bad?" Ichigo asked.

"No Ichigo," Grimmjow chuckled as he patted his head in a way that seemed fatherly. "It's good because knowing those two; they've done something to make our lives easier."

"How?"

Ichigo craned his neck to follow Nel and Rukia's movements to their own car. It was a black SUV, a make that he'd learned to identify across the parking lot from his room. Since the other agents had come to see him – with Grimmjow's permission – he had become used to seeing the FBI car. Grimmjow's personal car however was a simple Jeep painted silver. Ichigo had come to recognize it with ease. Even Aizen had come to notice how Ichigo's eyes seemed to brighten when he saw the overbearing Jeep Commander.

"Nel and me used to date," Grimmjow found himself blurting out. "She and I broke it off but stayed as friends. She and Rukia have been looking for a place to refurbish for whatever reason. I'm just glad they know what they're doing."

"Are you sure it's alright?"

"Renji's house has never been so nice," Grimmjow laughed as he helped Ichigo into the tall car. "Once he married Rukia, their house became a focal meeting place when none of us are at the office."

Ichigo cocked his head in confusion. He didn't understand about the whole idea of how a person could make a place a center of others' lives. No one could be able to draw people to them through changing a home around. He glanced at Grimmjow's friends and watched as they hopped into the car, started it, and waited for Grimmjow.

"How does that work?" he asked as Grimmjow buckled him into place. Grimmjow gave him a confused look then. "I don't understand what you're saying. How can a person draw people in by changing a room around?"

Grimmjow smiled. "Renji used to live in a dump basically. He was…well is a slob. Rukia keeps the place clean by basically, bitching at him." He shut the door and rounded the car to hop into his seat. He revved the car to life and pulled out of the lot as Ichigo let the bag slip to the floorboards between his feet. "Now, Renji's home is one of the best places between any of our agents. Nel's is slightly better but she lives alone so it would only be natural."

Ichigo watched as the girls followed behind them at a casual pace. He let his tea colored eyes follow the blurred scenery and blinked. A different city had flashed before his eyes and he wasn't sure where it had come from. He also wasn't sure why he'd "seen" it. He closed his eyes as the echoes of screams reached his ears.

"Ichigo?" Grimmjow asked worriedly, his hand landing on Ichigo's shoulder, snapping him from his memories. "You look really pale. Are you okay?"

"The screams were really loud," Ichigo whispered softly, his eyes translating that he was slightly lost in a memory still.

"What screams?" Grimmjow asked his eyes darted between the road and Ichigo.

"Mother's," Ichigo whispered. Grimmjow gripped the wheel tightly. "Her eyes were still open when they dragged me away from her." Grimmjow shivered.

"And these guys just keep getting sicker and sicker with each passing second," he growled. He twisted his hands around the wheel as if it were the neck of someone he despised. "You remember our deal right?"

"I don't have to talk if I don't want to talk," Ichigo muttered.

"Right," Grimmjow said. "This seems like one of those things you shouldn't have to speak about."

"I thought-," Ichigo began before Grimmjow shook his head.

"Don't push yourself," Grimmjow urged. "Trust me. Don't push yourself."

Ichigo snapped his mouth shut then and turned his gaze back to the blurred buildings. Again, he "saw" that place he felt he should know or remember. He wasn't sure why he felt that way but since he did, it was beginning to eat at him. It was one of those things that he felt he should remember but Grimmjow kept saying that he didn't need to remember. It wasn't like it mattered to Grimmjow despite the fact that Ichigo could tell Grimmjow's friends were all pressuring him to know what was in Ichigo's muddled brain.

Ichigo's eyes focused in on a building as Grimmjow pulled into a lot and cut the engine. The building before them was huge in Ichigo's opinion. Everyone understood that Grimmjow had tried his damnedest to stay out of the stereotypical "rich guy's son's place" since he didn't want to make anyone at the Bureau jealous. Given, the fact that it was a two story brick house wasn't horridly helpful. Grimmjow and Nel pulled into the driveway together. Ichigo stared at Grimmjow like he had two heads. Grimmjow chuckled softly as Ichigo pointed a shaking hand at the house.

"T-this is w-where y-you live?" Ichigo stammered. Grimmjow nodded calmly a slight smirk on his face as he watched Ichigo try to comprehend what was going on.

"Yes, this is where _we_ live," Grimmjow explained easily. "You and I live here. Together. Got it Ichigo?" His blue eyes burned with the unspoken demand and Ichigo nodded slowly, his brown eyes slightly wide. "Cool. Let's get you moved in then."

Grimmjow was smiling again and Ichigo found himself feeling better. Ichigo hopped out of the car after him and followed him inside, his bag of clothes in hand. The girls chattered at him animatedly, pointing out various things in the backyard and then repeating the procedure indoors. Leather couches were pointed out in the living room. The mahogany dinning table and chairs were pointed out along with the granite counter tops in the kitchen. They led him downstairs to point out a computer room that doubled as Grimmjow's at home office, a TV room coupled with a bar, and a laundry room. Upstairs, he was introduced to Grimmjow's master bedroom and his own new room.

It was somewhat empty in comparison to Grimmjow's room but it had its own cozy feel to it. It felt extremely familiar to Ichigo's subconscious but he beat back the dread that began to roll in his stomach. In the room were wood flooring, a single bed, a simple dresser, and a desk. The bed was covered in blue covers and white sheets with two pillows at its head. The desk had a lamp on it and above the dresser was a mirror. Ichigo stared in wonder for a few moments, taking hesitant steps forward to his new accommodations. The walls weren't the stark white that the hospital had had but were a soft navy blue color. The ceiling was white so the overhead could bounce more light about.

"I think he likes it," Nel cooed to Grimmjow when he came up after them, finally able to breathe after the tour from hell.

"He looks dazed," he muttered as he crossed his arms, "not comfortable."

"He's getting used to it isn't he?" Rukia asked in a hushed whisper. She patted his shoulder gently. "If you're bringing him to work tomorrow, warn Starrk." She smiled. "We'll see you later." Nel smiled as well and trailed after her co-conspirator. Grimmjow gaped at them as they left and then looked at Ichigo.

"This is seriously mine?" Ichigo asked, his eyes never straying from the room and its contents. Grimmjow smiled softly and nodded.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It's all yours. You hungry?" Ichigo whirled to face him and nodded. His eyes remained as wide as ever, his confusion, glee, and fear too obvious for comfort. Grimmjow lifted a brow and stepped up to Ichigo slowly. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"The room," Ichigo whispered. "It reminds me of something." One of his hands strayed to his head, his fingers weaving into his somewhat overgrown bangs.

"What?" Grimmjow asked as he stepped closer. "What does it remind you of?"

"Another room," Ichigo whispered softly. "Somewhere before Mom died."

As Ichigo's eyes flicked back and forth, Grimmjow understood that he wasn't getting anymore from the youth. He sighed through his nostrils and wrapped his arm over Ichigo's shoulders and pulled him from the room slowly.

"It doesn't bother me," Ichigo urged. Grimmjow smiled at him.

"Alright," he smiled. "I just wanted to show you what I have in the fridge so I have _some_ idea of what to make you for dinner."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Grimmjow laughed. "Come on! Let's get some _real_ food into you!"

Ichigo smiled and nodded. _Maybe I can tell him like I told Kaien._

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**School is literally kicking my ass and beating me like I'm a dead horse. Damned Stagecraft and musical. Damned other stuff. I'm riding a Percheron! Where's mah coffee!**

* * *

A week passed before Grimmjow was able to drag Ichigo to work and as much as he wanted to leave Ichigo at the house, he wasn't sure if it was smart to leave the orange haired youth alone with the knives in the kitchen. The week was supposed to be two days, three tops, but Ichigo had suddenly tried to explain something to him.

Something painful to remember.

It had taken hours to get even the smallest amount of information and that was when Grimmjow tried to drag it out by force. Needless to say, he didn't force very much. That doubled the amount of time it took for Ichigo to talk and at points, Ichigo just shut down. Grimmjow had been forced more than once to try to talk Ichigo out of a locked room. Thank god the kitchen didn't have locking doors.

"Sit there, don't touch anything, I'll get you something to do okay?" Grimmjow asked as he moved Ichigo into his chair. Ichigo nodded, his brown eyes darting about the room. "What are you looking for?"

"Familiar faces," Ichigo explained before looking up at Grimmjow. There was fear in the depths of that fire again but it wasn't as bad as it had been at the house when Ichigo had tried to explain what he had. "A way out of here."

"No one's gonna do anything to you okay?" Grimmjow chided as he ruffled Ichigo's hair. It was still long but Grimmjow couldn't really see him with shorter hair – even if Grimmjow did think he might look good with a haircut like the one Kaien Shiba had. Ichigo grunted at the rough treatment but didn't smack the larger man's hand away. He nodded when Grimmjow let up.

"Okay."

"Good. Stay put then and I'll see if I can catch up with my teammates."

Ichigo nodded and began to roll the chair back and forth slowly. Grimmjow grabbed a file from his bag and grinned slightly as he sauntered away, his blue eyes remaining on Ichigo as he moved to the War Room. In the War Room he was met by everyone else and their eyes were glowing with amusement. Yammy smirked at him but said nothing. He'd been let in on the recent events following Grimmjow around.

"Nice kid," Yammy chuckled. "Rangiku give you the clothes?"

"Ha, ha," Grimmjow snorted. "Very funny Yammy. When'd you get back?"

"Yesterday," Starrk explained. "Thanks for calling me by the way."

Grimmjow groaned. He knew he'd forgotten something. "Sorry," he replied. "Ichigo had an episode…or more. I lost count."

"Episodes?" Toshiro asked, his head popping up from his computer screen. "How bad?"

"I didn't come to work for week. How bad do you think they were?"

"Shutting up now," Toshiro murmured with a small smile in his tone.

"Good," Grimmjow sighed as he sat down. "Am I going to get caught up or do I have to bribe you guys?"

"Bribe us?" Rukia asked casually interested. "Now why would you have to bribe us?"

"Not to mention the fact you don't have anything worth our while," Renji chuckled playfully. Grimmjow's smirk widened.

"I've got information on the inner workings of the slave fighting," he smirked. The atmosphere changed automatically as the others sat up straight and leaned forward. Grimmjow looked around the room to find Halibel present as well. When she had been added to the case was news to Grimmjow but he had a feeling it was when Ichigo had been found.

"Well?" Kenpachi growled as gently as he could under the circumstances.

"Ichigo let me in on it after the first dinner at his new home," Grimmjow explained. "It's also the reason I haven't been here in a week."

"How do things work?" Yammy asked as the others shifted uncomfortably.

"It's a hierarchy," Grimmjow explained. "Masters and customers are on top of course and then slaves are on the bottom. The slaves are divided into four groups; punching bag which is the lowest of the low, a preliminary fighter which is the lowest form of a fighter, a secondary fighter, and a top fighter."

"Dare I ask what he meant by punching bags?" Nel asked her nose scrunched in disgust.

"Warm ups for the other slaves. They usually die young unless they fight back. If they fight back, they get thrown in another cage with a Top Fighter. The Top Fighter trains them in surviving the ring. Ichigo's trainer taught him to learn the names of his teachers and students in case one of them get out to someone who might help." He reached into the file to pull out a picture of a man. He tossed it onto the table and it was passed around.

"Who's this?" Byakuya asked as he slid the picture off to Rukia and Renji. He hadn't been too impressed by it. The picture was of a man in his fifties – if not forties or sixties – with long black hair that looked like it was always moving even if it were completely still. He had a slight beard on his chin and wore amber sunglasses.

"His name's Zangetsu," Grimmjow muttered. "Ichigo never did get a last name but then again," he shrugged, "he wasn't exactly calm when he was talking about him."

"So, they have newbies get beaten to a pulp for warm ups?" Ikkaku asked. Grimmjow nodded earning an all around gag from the group.

"A slave can rise up in rank by the way. A preliminary fighter – or secondary fighter – will fight people who are on the same level for usually nine fights. The tenth fight is when they go against someone a level higher. To win, they have to get three hits in before they either get knocked unconscious or killed. Top Levels usually get rented out unless the Masters," Grimmjow gagged, "have an interest in them."

Byakuya nodded in understanding. That sounded right. The best were usually rented out in any kind of organization. Assassins, technicians, and other personnel were always hired out to other companies to get information or do damage. Why wouldn't the best fighters go out to other rings if they could? Who knew? Those new rings may be better than the one they'd found Ichigo in; not that Byakuya thought it could get much worse than what they'd found.

"Has Ichigo trained anyone?" Rangiku asked carefully. She couldn't manage to keep the worry from her voice but Grimmjow couldn't blame her. He simply nodded and tossed the rest of the file to Byakuya.

"I solved your case Kuchiki," he muttered softly. There wasn't any real bite in his tone but Byakuya couldn't help but feel a bit out done. It was rare for anyone to best him on cases after all. He sent a firm glance at Grimmjow before opening the file. He barely managed to strangle his blanching.

"How did you-," he began.

"Ichigo's first student," Grimmjow growled. "Don't bother looking for him alive."

Renji leaned over to see the file, his cherry orbs widening in surprise. His head whipped to Grimmjow after he processed the teal haired man's words.

"What do you mean by that?" Renji snarled.

"Yasutora Sado is dead," Grimmjow announced. "He was paired against Ichigo at some point and before the fight; he'd asked Ichigo to kill him if they were ever paired against each other." Grimmjow and Byakuya locked eyes for an uneasy minute. Byakuya was the one who broke off the gaze to return his attention to the file.

"How?"

"Ichigo broke down three times trying to get that out of his system," Grimmjow explained. "Locked himself in his room and started babbling in Japanese and I didn't push. Forgive me for trying to be nice to him."

Byakuya glared at Grimmjow suddenly. Renji and Rukia edged away from him then and even Kenpachi flinched.

"I asked you how Ichigo killed him Grimmjow. I didn't ask for an explanation of how you tried to be nice to him!" Byakuya had risen from his seat, his eyes murderous. "If he's killed him it's murder! I don't care if Yasutora asked him to kill him or not! We only have Ichigo's word on it and it's coming through you!"

"Ichigo called him Chad," Grimmjow stated calmly. Byakuya's mouth snapped shut then. "Besides, Ichigo never told me what happened in the ring. All I got was garbled English. All I really could get was that it still haunts him to this day."

"Sit down Kuchiki," Starrk snarled. Byakuya stared at the usually laid back brunette in amazement. "Sit down." Grimmjow didn't bother to smirk as Byakuya sat down slowly. "Continue Grimmjow. Has Ichigo trained anyone else?"

"One other person yes," Grimmjow murmured.

"Who?" Yammy asked carefully. He was beginning to get uncomfortable. He'd heard that things had gotten uneasy

"Kaien Shiba."

"H-how high in ranking did he get before-," Nel broke off.

"Secondary Fighter on his eighth fight," Grimmjow explained. "By now, he's probably a Top Fighter but I can't tell. Now, how about you guys catch me up?"

"Actually, you're the only one who's found anything new out," Starrk admitted as he scratched the back of his neck. "There's nothing new on our end save for what you've just told us. Nicely done on getting what you did by the way."

"Thanks," Grimmjow murmured. "That makes me feel warm all over."

"What should we do now?" Yammy asked.

"Ichigo said Zangetsu left at some point," Grimmjow suggested. "Maybe if we can find him we can get a few more leads."

"Oh yes, that'll be easy as hell," Byakuya snarled, his dark gaze falling on Grimmjow again. Grimmjow met the look evenly.

"I can put out a BOLO," Ulquiorra suggested, his green eyes glued on the lightning that was being exchanged between Byakuya and Grimmjow.

"Do it," Kenpachi muttered. He too saw the sparks that were turning dangerous as seconds passed. He was crunching a black piece of paper into a ball as he spoke. He tossed it in a perfect arc as soon as it was ready. It bounced off Byakuya's head and it was Kenpachi's turn to be glared at by the usually stoic man. "Before you decide to go postal Kuchiki I'm going to tell you to go fuck yourself. I'm also going to tell you that you've seen Ichigo. I read that case file once already. Sado wouldn't have done well in that environment. I, myself, would have asked for the same damned favor and I enjoy fighting for fuck's sake!"

Byakuya's eyes fell to the table only to rise to meet Grimmjow's again. There wasn't as huge a light show but Grimmjow's gaze was still horridly firm. It was apparent that Byakuya couldn't disagree with Kenpachi.

"Let off of the kid for doing the poor kid a favor," Kenpachi snarled. "Now, for Ichigo." Grimmjow stiffened visibly. "Ease up Jaggerjaques. I just want to ask if you got the kid Proof of Ownership. He'll need it remember?"

Grimmjow relaxed and reached into his pocket and brought out a necklace. He let it drop and hang around one finger to show it off. It was a necklace. The chain wasn't really a chain but a black suede cord. On it hung two rectangular dog tags that shined silver in the lighting. They were surrounded by a dark scarlet silencer. As the cord turned, the team caught sight of a tribal design of a grim reaper on one side of each tag. On the other side was the inscriptions of Ichigo's name, his owner's name, and his address.

"How odd," Nnoitra chuckled. "I would have expected you to get the design of a panther on it. Seeing as you're such a cat person."

"Yeah well, the design fit Ichigo better than a panther," Grimmjow chuckled. "Besides, he picked it out not me."

"Wow," Nnoitra chuckled as he fingered the design.

"He should be wearing those," Kenpachi muttered.

"I know that," Grimmjow replied.

Proofs of Ownership were like identity chips or tattoos. Slaves now weren't given the last names of their owners like the Early American Colonies' slave owners. Tattoos that listed former owners weren't always wanted considering some owners didn't like their slaves to have body art even if it was for identity purposes. Slaves usually listed families that didn't work for whatever reason like Foster kids when families couldn't or just didn't work out.

"Then why isn't he wearing them?"

"Because I only got them today," Grimmjow explained. "We picked them out two days ago while Ichigo was in a relatively calm state. He saw a design and said he liked it."

"Well hooray," Halibel stated from her seat. She was smiling kindly toward Grimmjow, her green eyes shifting to look at a very bored looking Ichigo. "Rangiku had to have picked out those clothes by the way. You don't have that much good taste."

Grimmjow glanced out of the room to look over Ichigo's current wardrobe again. Boot cut jeans that were navy blue save for the bleached designs of a dragon racing up the right leg were paired with a black wife beater and a white, sleeveless, button up shirt. On Ichigo's wrists were black leather cords and a sweatband. On one of his fingers was a simple obsidian band. Around his neck was a gothic cross on a simple chain.

"Nah," Grimmjow smirked. "Aizen helped him pick that stuff out when we went to get the Proof." He shot a smile at Halibel whose jaw had dropped in sheer surprise. He stood and twirled the Proof around his fingers as he walked out.

"I'll get to work on that BOLO," Ulquiorra chuckled under his breath as he followed Grimmjow out.

"Hi-ho, it's off to work we go," Nnoitra sighed as he followed suit. "See you guys later if I find anything."

The rest of the teams dispersed after him leaving the three head agents alone. Starrk and Kenpachi shared a look. They glanced at Byakuya.

"Are you going to try to find him again?" Starrk asked.

"I was just handed a lead on a cold case," Byakuya snarled. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Well think before you charge off on it Kuchiki," Kenpachi muttered as he stood. "Remember where the lead came from."

"Not to mention you need to remember how we found said lead," Starrk added. "Who knows if you'll ever find a body?"

Byakuya nodded and waited for the two to leave. He watched as Ichigo was greeted by the agents and replied calmly despite his tensed body. He sighed. They had a point. Ichigo was still slightly damaged in certain areas considering what he'd been through. Ichigo was still suppressing memories of his past according to the doctor Grimmjow had mentioned.

_Aizen Sosuke_, he thought. _Is he already that close to Ichigo that Grimmjow would call him before a qualified Bureau psychologist? Or is it that Grimmjow trusts him with Ichigo more than he trusts Ichigo with anyone else? Or is it just Ichigo's paranoia getting in the way again?_

Byakuya rose from his seat and trailed to his desk, gripping the file in his hand. He wanted more than anything to prove Grimmjow was wrong about how Sado would have asked Ichigo to kill him but he had seen the reports on Ichigo's injuries. He wasn't sure he could deal with that either if even Kenpachi himself said he would have asked the same thing of the youth. He probably would have asked the same.

"I asked Kaien to do the same to me," a soft voice chimed from behind Byakuya. The raven haired agent turned to find Ichigo looking at him. Coal colored eyes fell to the youth's bare arms to find a few bandages against tan skin. There was no doubt in his mind that Ichigo had more scars than what he was probably willing to show.

"What?"

"I asked Kaien to kill me too if I was paired against him," Ichigo repeated. Byakuya felt his eyes widen and his jaw began to drop to the floor. "He didn't want to do it…Like I did when Chad asked me to kill him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I heard you worked Chad's case and…_Gomenasai_," Ichigo said, his words getting faster as he spoke. He ended with a bow before rushing back to Grimmjow's desk before the teal haired agent returned.

_He's sorry? Why would he be…Never mind_, Byakuya thought. _I know why he's sorry. He regrets what he did even if it was a favor to a friend. _He turned back to his desk and picked up his phone. He dialed a quick number and waited as it rang.

"Dr. Aizen Sosuke?" he asked. "Hello, my name is Byakuya Kuchiki. I work with Grimmjow Jaggerjaques…Yes; I have a few questions for you. When can we meet?"

* * *

Isshin Kurosaki was glaring at his son from across the table as soon as the teen walked into the house. His daughters, Karin and Yuzu froze, their forks in their mouths and their eyes wide, as their big brother strode into the room. The teen was eighteen, pale as snow with equally white hair that was casually spiky, and had the most eerie eyes they had ever seen. Gold irises that were surrounded by ebony narrowed at their father as the teen scowled at him.

"You're home late," Isshin stated as calmly as he could manage. The teen scoffed, rolled his eyes, and shrugged.

"Sorry Pops," he growled back. "I was hanging out with friends."

"The same friends that you continue to get injured around or was it the group of friends I don't actually mind you being around because they're trying to get you to turn around?"

"I'm not covered in dirt or blood am I?"

"No. You're not."

"Then who do you think I was with Pops?"

_I'm hoping for Shuuhei, Momo, and Tatsuki_, Isshin thought. _I know better than that though. Especially since he's _too_ clean._

"Did you go to school?" Isshin tested. He and the girls had already heard the message on the machine that stated the teen boy had been absent. The teen scoffed at him.

"Nope," he dead panned. "Didn't bother."

Isshin glared at his son and waited as the boy began to shift uncomfortably.

"Gonna feed me Pops or do I have to call someone saying you're abusing me?"

"You can feed yourself Hichigo Kurosaki," Isshin snarled at his son. The boy's glare returned with power. "What? You expect me to cater to someone who's been telling me he can take care of himself?"

"Screw you old man," Hichigo snarled. "It's Shirosaki and you know that."

"Your mother and I gave you the name Kurosaki and as long as you're living under my roof and haven't gotten your name legally changed, I'll call you whatever the hell I want to call you. Understand?"

Hichigo, or Shiro as his friends called him, stared at his father. He hadn't expected his father to actually say that in front of Karin and Yuzu. He'd thought that the man still wanted to keep the girls as innocent as possible since what had happened to their mother Masaki Kurosaki. He'd never heard Isshin use his wife as a weapon in an argument. Hell, ever since Masaki's funeral, Isshin hadn't mentioned her much unless he was really feeling like shit. Shiro doubted that Isshin's co-workers even knew her name.

"Come on Yuzu," Karin sputtered after she gulped down the last of her food. "We've got homework to do."

Yuzu nodded enthusiastically as she gulped down her own dish. The kitchen and dining room was suddenly filled with the sound of scuttling feet and clanging dishes as the girls put their plates in the sink and rushed upstairs. They yelled their good nights to Isshin and Shiro as they trampled up the steps.

"I _was_ with Shuuhei just so you know," Shiro said.

"If I call him with your cell, will he confirm that?"

"Yeah."

"What if I call Tatsuki? Or even Hinamori? What if I call Keigo or Mizuriu?"

"They'll confirm it too." Shiro smirked then. "Gonna try something new or not Pops?"

Isshin glared at the teen again. "If I weren't positive your actions stemmed from your mother's death, I would have reported you far sooner than I did."

Shiro's lip curled up to reveal oddly sharp canines. "It wasn't just her death Pops and you know that. Don't you dare pin this all on her death! You should be pinning it on Urahara and Yoruichi who couldn't find-!"

"ENOUGH!" Isshin bellowed. Shiro gaped at his father. He'd never seen the man that pissed off in his life. Absolutely never. "THEY'RE GONE HICHIGO! LET! IT! GO!"

Shiro snapped; again. "No! He was my _identical_ twin god damn it! He was never found remember? He could still be out there! You know that too you damned bastard but you just gave up and moved us all to fucking America! And why? All because you couldn't be in that house with Mom around you anymore! Did Ichi-berry mean anything to you at all?"

_SMACK!_

"Enough," Isshin snarled darkly. His hand throbbed and tears stung at the edges of his eyes while he watched his son lift a shaking hand to his now red cheek. Shocked gold orbs rose to meet his eyes again coupled with a dropped jaw and quivering lips.

"You-," Shiro choked as tears stung his eyes.

"Get out of my sight," Isshin hissed murderously. Shiro flinched at the tone and stepped away slowly and carefully. He kept his hand on his cheek as he hurried up the steps, nearly tripping over his sisters in the process.

"You're an ass you know that?" Karin murmured without looking at her brother. "Dad misses Ichi-nii as much as you do."

"Yeah Shiro-nii," Yuzu whimpered as she looked at him directly. "Dad misses him as much as you do if not more." He stared down at the girls, his heart tying itself in knots.

"Liars," Shiro muttered as he turned his eyes away from them. "He misses Mom more than he misses Ichigo." He stormed away from them before they could say any more to his room, the door slamming behind him as soon as he was inside. He locked the door and leaned against it. He stared at the ceiling and sank to the floor, the tears finally flowing from his eyes.

_"Hey Shiro! Look at what I can do!" Ichigo called before executing a perfect roundhouse kick in the backyard._

_"Oh look at our little Karate fighter!" Masaki chimed gleefully._

_"You're not as good as me Berry brain," Shiro laughed as he stuck his tongue out. Ichigo blushed and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Shiro began to stutter, fearing tears would show in those cute brown eyes because he was being mean._

_"Will you teach me how to do it better?" Ichigo asked, his bottom lip quivering._

_"Yeah but you gotta do my chores for a week!"_

_"Deal!"_

Shiro glared at his room with disgust. It was Spartan in simplicity. A bed, a desk, a dresser, and a closet was all he really needed considering he spent most of his time at friends' houses. All save for Shuuhei's place but Shuuhei said his father was a stickler about sleepovers. He really only wanted one thing in his life and that was hard to find since he wasn't really in contact with the lead detectives that had handled the case.

His phone buzzed in his pocket then. He yanked it out, almost about to throw it through the window when he saw who was texting him. It was Shuuhei.

_Your dad mad at you?_

_What do you think Shuu? Is your dad pissed I kept you out so late?_

_Nah. He doesn't really mind. _

_I thought he was a stickler._

_He is but I'm his adopted kid remember? As long as I keep a clean record – without sneaking around behind his back – he doesn't care what I do._

_Doesn't he hate the fact you're hanging around me?_

_No._

_Why not?_

_I told him you'd had it a bit rough. He wants me to get you on the straight and narrow._

_Don't let him meet my dad. _

_Why?_

_They'll get along._

_LOL! See you tomorrow at school._

_Whatever…'night._

"Like I'm going to school tomorrow," Shiro muttered. "I'm going to go to the mall." His phone buzzed again. It was Shuuhei again.

_I'll see you at the mall Shiro!_

"Son of a-," Shiro sighed when it buzzed once more.

_I'll even bring a few of the gang with me Shiro!_

"Fuck me."

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**School is literally kicking my ass and beating me like I'm a dead horse. Damned Stagecraft and musical. Damned other stuff. Where's mah coffee!**

* * *

Aizen was smiling at Byakuya when he entered the office. In truth, he had expected one of the other agents to show up – Renji or Nnoitra or one of the women – but he was happy enough to see any one of them. When Grimmjow had invited him along on a shopping expedition, he had been exceptionally surprised but willing to go along; especially after Grimmjow explained what was happening at home with Ichigo. He didn't mind the idea of going shopping for Proofs of Ownership considering he'd had to do it before for slaves that had been abandoned and taken in by the hospital. The filing and storage systems had never been so immaculate before the hospital had taken in slaves that really had nowhere else to go.

Usually the slaves came from abusive families or drug dealers that had nearly gotten them blown up or shot. Naturally, the slaves that had been around drugs went through de-toxication processes and kept away from any other drugs. Some of the slaves found new families that actually treated them quite well.

"You had questions?" Aizen asked causally.

"Yes," Byakuya stated coolly. "How close are you to Grimmjow's new slave?"

Aizen pouted at him. "Must you call Ichigo that?"

"Answer my question."

"Close enough," Aizen stated calmly. "Ichigo doesn't do well around new people and from what I've read about your psychologist – Mayruri something-or-other – I don't think Ichigo would do well around him."

Byakuya sneered at him. "That's not a good enough reason Doctor."

"I think it is," Aizen replied. "I've worked with the man just so you know. I've seen how he works and he should be a coroner. Not a psychologist."

"You've worked with him?"

Aizen nodded. "When he used to work here my good sir. Ichigo wouldn't do well around him. Ichigo would beat him to a pulp before he spoke to him."

"I doubt that," Byakuya muttered calmly.

"I don't," Aizen replied. "Besides, I've worked with the FBI for psychological consulting before. I have security clearances as well. Not to mention that your boss is fine with my being the one who tries to access Ichigo's inner workings."

"Yamamoto wants you to be-?"

"Ichigo's personal shrink," Aizen finished. "I hope you don't mind."

Byakuya sighed and nodded. "Fine. Forgive me if I do my own background check."

"Go ahead…" Byakuya sneered at him once more and turned for the door. "About Yasutora Sado," Byakuya froze, "Ichigo said something about 'disposal methods' you may want to know about."

"What is that pray tell?"

"They don't usually leave bodies to be found," Aizen explained. "I would check trash dumps or compost piles if you want a body but I would expect it to either have been burned if it wasn't dismembered."

"Good day Doctor," Byakuya snarled before slamming the door behind him. Aizen sighed and pressed the call button on his phone.

"Yes Doctor?" Melony asked.

"Please call Agent Kuchiki back to my office."

"Yes Sir!"

A few seconds passed before the door slammed open again.

"What?" Byakuya snarled.

"Ichigo's mental health began to deteriorate after Yasutora's death. Well, it deteriorated further after that event." Aizen glanced down at his desk and pulled a file from a drawer. He shifted through it, listening as the door shut gently. Byakuya sat himself in one of the chairs before Aizen's desk and waited. Aizen pulled a card from the file and passed it to Byakuya.

"What is this?" Before Byakuya could ask another question, Aizen shoved a photo in his face. In it were two people, a man and a woman. "This man…I've seen him here."

"His name is Isshin Kurosaki. The woman in the picture is his wife Masaki. The card is that of the detective pair that worked her murder."

"Murder?"

"I hope they speak English," Aizen murmured casually not looking at Byakuya. "I wouldn't be surprised if they do considering they call in to check on Isshin every so often."

Byakuya felt a vein in his neck pop and throb. _This pain in the ass,_ he thought.

"Call them," Aizen demanded. "Ask for a picture of the Kurosaki family before Masaki was killed and you might get a lead that'll beat what Grimmjow got from Ichigo."

That was far too tempting a thought but Byakuya managed to glare darkly at Aizen before excusing himself.

"I wonder if he'll do it," Aizen murmured. "I would think so. He is somewhat egotistical after all. That and I think I managed to peak his interest." He glanced down at another file, this one with a picture of Ichigo with bandages covering most of his face. He had planned on changing it out for a more updated picture but he hadn't gotten to it yet. "I'm sorry Ichigo if this is painful for you but I feel it is for the best. I highly doubt your father hates you."

* * *

"Wow Shuuhei!" Tatsuki chimed as she looked over his grades. Shiro glanced over, his lips wrapped around the straw for his drink. They were in the mall eating out. Of course, three days earlier report cards had been given out and they were all sharing their grades.

"It's not that amazing," Shuuhei murmured. "Come on Tatsuki, yours are far better than mine are."

"You should tutor Keigo," Tatsuki chuckled.

"I've tried that before. Never again!"

"Then tutor Shiro," Tatsuki murmured.

"I'm fine on my own silly," Shiro growled softly. "Just because I miss a few days doesn't mean I'm not keeping up!"

"His grades are as good as mine," Shuuhei defended. "I help him study the days he misses anyway."

Shiro smiled at the tom boy girl. She scoffed at him and shook her head.

"Fine. You two be idiots. I don't know why I expected you to be different from the other boys at school."

"Because Shuuhei has an awesome foster father that doesn't allow him to go off the straight and narrow?" Shiro chuckled. Tatsuki ruffled his short, snow white hair.

"Idiots, all of you," she chuckled.

"You love us for it!" Shuuhei laughed as he pocketed his report card. Tatsuki stuck her tongue out at him.

"Come on!" Shiro laughed as he stood. "I thought we were going to a movie!"

"Hey," Tatsuki interjected. "I thought you had to take care of Yachiru today Shuu."

"One of Dad's friends from work offered to take care of it."

"Sweet!" Shiro laughed. "Let's go!"

They trashed their cups and wrappers as they made their way to the theater that sat across the parking lot from the mall. Shiro watched as Tatsuki and Shuuhei joked around with each other and wondered if they were dating yet. He knew both of them had feelings for each other but he wasn't sure if they'd admitted it to each other yet. Their sly glances at each other weren't as slick as they thought they were but no one said anything about it. Shiro shook his head at how dense the two were. Shuuhei was good looking yes, even if he did have sixty-nine tattooed on his face and three long scars racing down his right cheek. Besides, he got on well with Tatsuki.

"Which one?" Shuuhei asked as they looked at the titles that were available.

"ACTION!" Shiro and Tatsuki chimed together. They high fived each other while Shuuhei chuckled. Of course they wanted to watch an action film. He chose the one he thought would have as many car chases and explosions as possible, purchased the tickets, and dragged his companions to the theater.

"Which did you chose?" Tatsuki asked.

"Hereafter," Shuuhei joked.

"I've already seen that one!" Shiro whined. "It's good but I don't wanna see it again! That's for when I'm depressed!"

"You're always depressed," Tatsuki laughed. Shiro pouted at her.

"Not always Arisawa."

"Usually."

"Shut up both of you. It'll have explosions don't you worry!" Shuuhei interjected. Let's enjoy this day off okay?"

"Fine," Shiro sighed. He was really trying to avoid any conversations that may lead to his father at the moment. When he'd left the house, he'd managed to avoid even being seen by his sisters but he knew he was in for it when he got home that night. He had a feeling Isshin wasn't going to be speaking to him; if he was even going to look at him.

The movie was great but Shiro didn't really take anything from it. He just kept rubbing his left cheek as the memory of his father's hand slamming into it continued to make him think it stung. He couldn't help it. He'd never been hit by his father; ever. It had hurt more than he'd expected but in some way, he knew he deserved worse. He deserved so much worse for what he'd said. Hell Karin should have been beating him up for his calling her a liar.

After the movie, the three parted ways, Shiro going one way and Shuuhei and Tatsuki going in another. They had schedules to keep after all where he was simply avoiding people. He really had no real reason to go home yet. He had plenty of money to buy himself dinner if he had to and it wasn't the first time he'd snuck into the house through his bedroom window. It was normal for him to trying get in silently. His juvenile record in Japan was not exactly secret to his friends. Hell, he'd met Shuuhei after getting on the wrong side of the law because he looked suspicious. He had gotten cleared – not that Isshin didn't give him hell over it all – and Shuuhei had made a deal with him to be friends.

A few weeks later, Shuuhei had managed to drag Shiro to school and introduce him to his group of friends. Shiro sooner or later ended up meeting almost every parent of each kid at some school event or if they happened to come into the clinic Isshin had him work at sometimes.

Recently, Shiro had stopped helping out at the clinic because he was having his own issue with the doctors there recently. He swore up and down they were watching him, staring at him. That and his father had started acting strange ever since there was a bit of an upheaval around the place. Something about that day had the nurses staring at him as well.

He wasn't comfortable with being stared at and so he simply avoided going to the clinic. Isshin hadn't been pleased when he'd simply stopped going but he hadn't been very happy about Shiro getting into a fight soon after it all started. He'd ended up in the clinic and was sent to his father naturally. When he'd gotten to his father, Isshin was speaking to some guy with teal hair. The guy looked completely lost as Isshin babbled on. When he left, Isshin had been very careful to see if the guy was gone before lecturing Shiro.

Who exactly was that guy anyway? He had a gun and a badge of some sort on his hip but Isshin had never elaborated on them. He was too busy acting like nothing was wrong around his family. The girls had noticed but hadn't mentioned it. Shiro had noticed and had been looking for a way to point it out but the argument that had been plaguing the house had taken precedence. As Shiro's throbbing cheek proved over and over.

Shiro passed by a few places he knew fairly well but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. He ended up moving towards the clinic. Maybe this whole fight with Isshin could be cut to an end – for the time being – if he simply said he was sorry. Maybe if he took back what he'd said Isshin wouldn't kick him out of the house permanently.

"Oh!" Nurse Orihime yelped. "Shiro-kun! You're back!"

Shiro bit back the gag reflex. He could see his dad a few beds away but he didn't say anything about it. "I'm just here to talk to Isshin."

"Oh," she sighed. "Alright. Let me get him."

"Don't bother," he waved her down. "I'll get him myself."

"The least you can do is being nice to the people around you," Isshin hissed as he placed his clipboard on the desk. Shiro twitched. He hated it when his father pulled that little trick on him. The elder man kept his eyes on the paper work as he spoke once more. "Inoue, you can cover for me can't you?"

"Hello Dad," Shiro murmured as Orihime left. "I want to talk to you."

"Apparently," Isshin mocked. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here now would you?"

Shiro scowled. "Here I am trying to make peace and what do you do? You give me shit anyway. You know I'd only come to talk to you about peaceful relations."

"Then speak why don't you?" Isshin glanced at Shiro for a second before his attention was caught by the agent outside the clinic. "What on earth are they doing here?"

"Huh?" Shiro glanced over. "Hey, who is he?"

"An FBI agent," Isshin murmured. "So is his companion. I beg you to leave them alone."

"FBI? What're they doing here?"

"Probably having their temperature's checked," Isshin muttered darkly. Shiro glanced at his father. He'd never heard that tone come from the man when it came to authority figures of any kind. It was disconcerting to hear it now.

"You sound bitter Pops," Shiro sneered almost instinctually. "That's not like you."

"I have a reason behind it," Isshin growled back. His face softened when he saw the scared look on his son's face. He hadn't seen a look like that since eight years prior; when Masaki had been murdered and their Ichigo disappeared without a single trace. "Shiro," he began again, trying to smooth his words over.

"Stuff it," Shiro snarled instinctively. "Forget it Pops. You're not going to rope me into your little denial fest."

"Denial fest?" Isshin asked. "That's what you think I'm doing?"

"Yeah. I don't care what Shuuhei says. You're in denial about it all. You focus on Mom's death more than Ichi's disappearance. Hell, Urahara and Yoruichi didn't do much on it either! They just looked for a killer rather than a possible kidnapper!"

"Keep your voice down," Isshin muttered as he turned his gaze from his son. He could feel the icy glare on his skin but shrugged it off casually. He was used to that look no matter how much he hated it; he wasn't able to do anything but ignore it. Shiro had set his face in very few expressions. The icy glare was the main one.

"Screw you Pops," Shiro growled. "You don't give a damn anyway."

Isshin rolled one of his hands into a tight fist as he resisted the urge to slap his son again. _Twice_, he thought. _Twice he makes me want to hit him in two days. I've never wanted to beat common sense into him so damned badly._

"I'm going home," Shiro announced suddenly.

"Good," Isshin replied coolly. "Take care of your sisters." He glared at his son then. "For once in your life."

Shiro stared at his father in amazement. He'd never expected that tone to come from him but he wasn't going to dare comment. He snorted and simply marched out of the clinic. Outside of the doors, he paused and glanced back to find his father already busy at work again. _Typical_, Shiro thought. _He's good at compartmentalizing. He always was_. He sighed remorsefully. He'd come to apologize and things had only gotten worse. _When did this become a normal thing; all this arguing over who was right and who was wrong?_

"If you're only going to cause trouble, you can leave Hichigo," Isshin growled.

"Fine," Shiro growled. "I'll leave you alone then Pops." He stepped away and stormed out of the clinic doors. He couldn't stand the feeling that was rushing through his veins. It was like he wanted to beat the shit out of his father but he also wanted to break down and cry for once. He hadn't cried since his mother died. He refused to do something like that. He wanted to find Ichigo and bring back something close to normalcy around his house. Karin and Yuzu loved Ichigo a ton and Shiro knew it. He wanted to get Ichigo back for them as much as he wanted Ichigo back for himself. He wanted to hold his twin brother close again.

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**School is literally kicking my ass and beating me like I'm a dead horse. I'm not entirely sure about this at the moment either so bear with me...I beg you.**

**Oh my god! Thank you Racey-sama!**

* * *

Ichigo stared at the pink haired girl before him in amazement. He hadn't expected to be left to babysit but Kenpachi and Grimmjow were being kind enough to explain why Yachiru needed to be watched. Her foster brother wanted to hang out with a couple of friends and Kenpachi had to do some more digging on something for the case. He could work from home yes but doing that meant juggling papers and Yachiru (aka _The_ Bouncing Ball of Energy). Grimmjow was happy to help out with the files and digging. There was also the fact that Ichigo was an extra pair of eyes and arms that could probably handle the little deviant Kenpachi had for a daughter.

"How the hell did you do that?" Ichigo asked as Yachiru continued to bounce on the trampoline in the backyard. She laughed and bounced harder, flipping in the air, and landing on her back bouncing softly as she giggled excitedly.

"Like that Berry-head!" Yachiru laughed. Ichigo sighed. Grimmjow had found another way to write 'Ichigo' in kanji. The kanji meant strawberry and Grimmjow had decided it fit to a tee, much to Ichigo's horror. Yachiru and Kenpachi had adopted it with ease, the pink haired girl deciding it was his real name rather than a mean nickname.

"Could I please ask you not to call me that?" Ichigo chuckled, annoyed that the nicknames were growing on him for some reason. They felt…familiar and right.

"Aw but it's a good nickname for you!" Yachiru whined playfully. She crawled over to him, her movements not as well coordinated as they could have been, and splayed her arms outward to her sides. "Help?"

Ichigo sighed and hooked his hands under her arms and lifted the girl from the trampoline gently. He then cradled her to his side, her arms wrapping softly around his neck. She used his arm as a seat and his other arm as a guard rail. She smiled and poked her little hand into his spiky hair, ruffling it slightly.

"It's really soft!" she laughed. He smiled uneasily. His hair was still long around his shoulders – Grimmjow couldn't talk him into cutting it – and he wasn't completely sure he wanted to be touched by anyone. Yachiru was really young and obviously innocent. Something about that made him feel more comfortable.

"Thanks," he murmured in reply.

"Dad! Yachiru! I'm home!" a new voice called. Yachiru's eyes grew big and shone happily. She giggled softly.

"Big brother's home!"

"Hey Shuuhei!" Kenpachi called. "Sorry but I'm in the office!"

"On my way! Oh hey Grimmjow!"

Ichigo stepped inside the house, kicking his shoes off instinctively – though he wasn't sure why it was instinctual. He placed Yachiru down on the ground and the pink haired girl raced off to the office. She called her dad loudly, laughing the whole way there. Ichigo heard her blast past Grimmjow, tripping him up as she went, and leaping onto her father's back. Ichigo heard laughing as Grimmjow sighed.

"Ease up will you Yachiru?" Shuuhei's voice chuckled again. "Dad has to be able to chase bad guys remember?"

"Shuuhei be nice to him," Grimmjow sighed. "Oh yeah! There's someone you need to meet Shuuhei. Ichigo!"

Ichigo's head snapped up and he tapped up quickly to Grimmjow's side. He met Grimmjow's piercing blue eyes with his own and began to feel a bit more at ease. He wasn't sure how Grimmjow's presence made him feel better. He just knew he didn't mind it.

"Ichigo, meet Kenpachi's foster son Shuuhei," Grimmjow stated swinging his hand over to Kenpachi and his two kids.

Ichigo's eyes followed to find a young man about as tall as himself with short, spiky black hair, three scars down the right of his face, and a sixty-nine tattooed on his left cheek. He was slim but well trimmed considering his size. Ichigo automatically knew he could fight. Size had never been a good factor to use. Ichigo was proof of that himself.

"Hello," Ichigo whispered carefully. He could tell the scars were the reminder of a past. One that was probably like his own for all he knew.

"H-hey," Shuuhei murmured.

"Something wrong Shuuhei?" Grimmjow asked. "You look pale as a ghost."

"H-huh? Oh uh sorry its just he looks like one of my friends."

Kenpachi gave him a strange look but didn't press. Grimmjow laid a hand on Ichigo's shoulder and squeezed. Ichigo hadn't noticed that he'd begun to shake. He was scared of those words. He didn't know why it scared him to look like someone else. Maybe because he'd never met the person and didn't know what they were like. He didn't want to be mistaken for someone else if they were someone Grimmjow had to catch.

"Nice to meet you Ichigo," Shuuhei managed. Ichigo nodded and bowed. Grimmjow rubbed his back gently as he stood straight again.

"Which friend?" Yachiru asked, her face beaming again. Shuuhei jumped slightly in surprise to her tone and expression. He chuckled nervously.

"Shiro," Shuuhei murmured. "By the way Dad thanks for letting me hang out today."

"No worries. Since Ichigo's been taken in by this bleeding heart we're more likely to have extra help around here."

"I'm going to make you pay rent Kenpachi if you keep this up," Grimmjow chuckled. Kenpachi let out a roar of laughter.

"I'd probably pay it gladly," Kenpachi sighed. "Yachiru likes him quite a lot."

"That's because she likes everyone," Grimmjow muttered. "Anyway, since we've gotten through your work Kenpachi, I should get Ichigo home and fed."

"Right. Have fun Grimmjow," Kenpachi replied easily. Shuuhei waved at the two leaving and glanced at his foster father worriedly. "What?"

"Dad can I talk you for a moment?" he asked.

"Sure. What's wrong?" Yachiru glanced between the two and dropped to the ground. She raced out of the room and to the den. She knew better than to be in the middle of Shuuhei's speaking to her father. It was easier for her – and everyone else – to stay out of those confusing matters. She always hated the speeches about Shuuhei's past. They scared her.

As soon as Yachiru raced out of the room Shuuhei's eyes fell to the floor.

"Sorry Dad but he really looks like Shiro."

"Shiro? Is this that one kid that I'm not to sure I want you around?"

"Yeah. Tatsuki and I dragged him to the movies today. He enjoyed it completely and was actually at ease. I don't know what was going on here." He paused. "Dad, Shiro's always been hung up on something from his past."

"What is it?" Kenpachi asked as he sat down. Shuuhei sank into another available chair and his leg bounced up and down.

"Shiro's dad moved them from Japan to here after his mother was killed. At the same time Shiro's brother disappeared."

"You've told me that bit before," Kenpachi murmured. "What's really bothering you? If you're going to react to Ichigo like that I can't have him around here."

"Huh? Why?" Shuuhei asked shocked. He hadn't meant for his reaction to the youth cause Yachiru to lose a sitter.

"Ichigo's not a normal slave Shuu. He's like you in some ways."

Shuuhei twitched. "Damaged?" Kenpachi nodded, his eyes closed. He looked like he was trying to shut something out of his mind. "How badly Dad?"

"Worse than you Shuuhei. We're beyond lucky that he even let's people near him. Even then, he only lets a few people near him. Our team members are the ones he's more comfortable with but he really only likes Grimmjow." Kenpachi shrugged. "I can't really blame him though. I really would prefer you not call people 'damaged'."

"Sorry. It's an old habit."

Kenpachi watched Shuuhei bounce his leg up and down repeatedly. Shuuhei was rarely nervous around him but then again, Shuuhei had reacted oddly to Ichigo.

"What's bothering you Shuu?"

"Shiro's brother is a twin," Shuuhei murmured. "A more…colorful twin."

"Right. Because Shiro's an albino right? Go on Shuu."

"According to Shiro…they're supposed to be identical twins."

"Identical?"

* * *

Shiro strode through the halls of his school, his eyes bored. He was amazed at himself for coming to school but he didn't really want to stay home all day. He wanted to stay as far from his father at that moment. If that meant he had to sneak in and out of the house then that was what he'd do. He didn't care if that made his father hate him more than ever. He'd have to deal with it one way or another though and he knew that. A couple of weeks of hiding weren't going to do him much good.

"Hey Shiro," Shuuhei called softly. Shiro waved at him kindly. "You look sick."

"I'm still avoiding my dad."

Shuuhei sighed. Why was he not surprised? Well, it was Shiro he was speaking to after all. He was sort of used to this type of thing now. His felt his fingertips skim over his scars lightly and absently. He was beginning to notice more habits of his now. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not.

"Something bothering you Shuu?" Shiro asked as he sat down. When Shuuhei didn't answer, Shiro looked at him worriedly. "You always absently touch your scars when something's bothering you. Not to mention you seem…anxious."

"I guess I do and am," Shuuhei murmured absently. He glanced towards the window. "Hey, Shiro? You want to meet my dad right?"

"Yeah? What's up with you changing the subject all of a sudden?"

"I think you should meet him," Shuuhei murmured. "I'll be happy to take you to him afterschool today if you want me to."

Shiro blinked in surprise. Didn't Shuuhei's father work late usually? Wasn't Shuuhei not supposed to drag his friends to his dad's work either?

"I'd love to but aren't you supposed to not bring friends to your dad's work place?"

"I don't really care about protocols at the moment."

"Now you're creeping me out."

"Do you want to meet him or not?"

"Uh…Yeah."

"Good."

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**School is literally kicking my ass and beating me like I'm a dead horse. I'm not entirely sure about this at the moment either so bear with me...I beg you.**

* * *

"Oh thank you Ichigo!" Matsumoto squealed. "You have no idea how much you're helping me out with this!" Her blue eyes glowed with joy and she was smiling a huge grin. Ichigo smiled softly and nodded his understanding. He didn't know how he'd known she was suffering from a hangover but as soon as he'd walked in with a cup of her – apparently – favorite coffee and a chocolate donut she'd perked up. It was something he hadn't expected but it wasn't completely appreciated.

"Of course Rangiku-san. I'm happy to help," he said calmly. Rangiku sighed dreamily, set her gifts down on a table, and then proceeded to hug him to death. His eyes widened in surprise but he didn't try to push her away. He'd already seen this sort of action around the other co-workers – Toshiro mainly – and no one seemed to give a damn. No one cared because it was Rangiku and she was weird anyway.

"Thank you Ichigo!" she gushed.

"_Hai, doiteshimashite_," Ichigo murmured as she released him. She sighed but smiled at him like a caring friend. He knew she didn't really like it if he reverted to Japanese but she was patient with it. He could thank her for that at least. He bowed slightly and stepped out of the room, waving as he went. He didn't see her wave back but he could hear the shift of her clothes as she moved.

"You've tamed the beast Ichigo," Grimmjow declared playfully. Ichigo cocked his head in confusion. "Matsumoto Berry-brain. You tamed her."

"Ha?" Ichigo asked dully.

"How'd you know what to get her?" Renji asked his cherry eyes wide as dinner platters. "Hell, how'd you get close to her?"

"The answer to the second one is an easy one to answer," Toshiro chimed in. "He's Ichigo and she likes him as much as she likes me."

Ichigo smirked at Toshiro's deadpanning. It even surprised the other agents. It hadn't done anything to Ichigo because even he had expected something like that from Toshiro who knew Rangiku the best.

"Is it my fault I noticed the circles under her eyes along with the blood shot eyes?" Ichigo asked innocently. He saw shivers race through Grimmjow like lightning. The teal haired man glared at him softly.

"Stop absorbing information like a sponge," Grimmjow begged. "It's freaking creepy!"

"Can't help it really," Ichigo replied calmly. Grimmjow sighed. This was becoming a normal thing for the two. They bickered but it was all in good fun. Kenpachi chuckled at the two and shook his head. Shuuhei's words still bothered him and he hadn't gotten a chance to speak to Grimmjow about it quite yet. He'd been preoccupied watching his snitches and other sources scramble for information. That, and Byakuya had been oddly distant from the group – more so than usual. He'd come in early – as always – but hadn't come to the meetings at all. He'd just kept his eyes glued to his monitor before he disappeared into a meeting room about an hour or so ago – much to his team's annoyance.

"Daddy!" a glee filled voice chimed loudly, echoing through the noise of the bullpen. Kenpachi stiffened. _No way!_

"Yachiru? What're you doing here? Shuu's supposed to be picking you up. Where is he?"

"He's behind me. He brought Shiro with him!"

Kenpachi's wide eyes narrowed. He glanced at the elevators to find Shuuhei looking at him in a murderous way. Behind him stood a pale reflection of…Ichigo. Everything about him was like Ichigo save for the skin color, hair color and length, and the eyes. Kenpachi wasn't sure what could be worse than those eerie gold eyes surrounded by onyx. It was like they were a good twin and bad twin combination, Shiro possibly being the evil twin.

"He brought a friend?" Kenpachi asked his voice deadly calm. Yachiru blinked and then tapped away to Ichigo's side. The orange haired youth glanced down to her from his seat – that he'd managed to kick Ikkaku out of kindly enough – and smiled. The next thing she knew, she was in his lap.

"Hey," he cooed. "What's up Yachiru?"

"You made friends that quickly?" Yumichika asked in surprise. Ichigo nodded at him and bounced Yachiru on his knee making her giggle. Yumichika snickered at the cute display and continued on with his work.

"What's up Yachiru?" Ichigo repeated.

"Shuuhei brought a friend to meet Dad," the little girl explained. Ichigo let out a soft 'hmm' in reply and stood with her in his arms.

"Shuu knows better than to bring a friend here," Grimmjow muttered as he strode over, picking up his coat as he walked. "Pack up Ichigo. I still have to take you to check in with Aizen remember?" Ichigo nodded as he continued to bounce Yachiru gently in his arms. Grimmjow had to shake himself to keep from staring at Ichigo's deceiving strength.

"Okay. Kenpachi has already beaten us the elevator anyway. Maybe he'll hold it for us."

"You're amazingly hopeful on that idea."

"Another thing I can't help."

Grimmjow chuckled lightly as Ichigo continued to bounce Yachiru in his arms. The orange haired youth seemed to have relaxed a lot more than he usually did. His eyes were soft and his body wasn't as tensed. He didn't glance about himself warily anymore either. He looked comfortable in his own skin for once. Grimmjow couldn't help but think he looked good that way. A smile did wonders for the teal haired agent when it was set with Ichigo's molten brown irises. If only he knew how much his own smile meant to the youth, he might show it more often.

"I'd stay back if I were you," Toshiro stated as he breezed past them both. "Kenpachi's really pissed off this time."

"I'm not surprised," Grimmjow sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It doesn't matter though. I still have to get Ichigo to an appointment."

"Aizen again or a normal check up with a normal doctor?"

"Aizen and it's not all that bad alright. He's a good guy despite being a shrink." Grimmjow was smiling wryly in his own little way. He was joking more often now too, like he had a brighter outlook as of late. Toshiro wasn't the only one to notice either but he didn't dare say it to Grimmjow's face. He simply shrugged in understanding and began to continue onto what he needed to be doing. However, he paused when a door that lead to a private conference room opened.

"That's not supposed to be in use," he murmured. Grimmjow followed his gaze and let out a soft '_hmm'_ in reply. He wasn't too surprised about it all; especially when Byakuya of all people exited the room.

"Byakuya was probably talking to one of our bosses," he thought aloud.

Toshiro shrugged but arched a brow when a man and woman he'd never seen before exited after Byakuya. The woman was slim and well built, dark skinned, and well endowed. Her eyes gleamed gold in the lighting, shining even more brightly against her purple hair. She wore a formfitting black one piece suit that reminded Toshiro of a leotard. Over her shoulders was a bright orange shirt that would have passed hunting regulations in several states. On her feet was a pair of some sort of designer shoes and what looked like loose socks. She looked like a damned ballerina.

The man was blonde and in some ways not very noticeable at an average height, weight, and skin color. He might have stuck out somewhere else but not in the FBI building – let alone America. Brown eyes seemed to dance dully in the florescent lights as he shoved a green and white striped hat onto his head. He wore a green _Uwagi_ and three quartered _zubon_. On his feet were a pair of – Toshiro searched his memory for the word – _Geta_. He was surprised he was remembering so much from his cramming Japanese history with Ichigo but he was glad he had.

"The guy's wearing Japanese clothing," he blurted before he thought.

He could feel Grimmjow's glare on his back as if he were the target. He watched as the man seemed to flinch and glanced over his shoulder. Brown eyes met aqua and then slid over to meet teal. He shivered slightly but then his eyes caught on something else. Toshiro followed his gaze and found himself glancing at Ichigo. The orange head was completely oblivious to anything and anyone who wasn't Yachiru. Toshiro let his eyes return to the man to find brown eyes wide with shock and…was the recognition? His aqua eyes slipped up to find Grimmjow following the gaze and then turning back to it; darkly.

"Ichigo," Grimmjow stated his voice low and soft. Toshiro shivered. "We're leaving."

"_Ha-Hai_," Ichigo mumbled his body suddenly stiff again, his eyes wary as Grimmjow strode past him. He followed after him obediently but warily.

"Who the hell was that?" a new voice asked Toshiro. The white haired prodigy leapt away from where he'd been standing to stare in amazement at the blonde man he'd been watching. _How did he get over here so fast?_

"Grimmjow Jaggerjaques?" he responded his voice squeaking from fright and unease. "He's one of our agents."

"Urahara?" the woman asked as she stepped up. Her gold eyes weren't focused on the man though. They were following Grimmjow's departure. "Is that-?"

"Hang on a sec Yoruichi," Urahara whined. "I'm asking about the orange haired boy that was with you two. Who the heck was that?"

"His name's Ichigo," Byakuya stated easily as he walked up to Toshiro. "He's related to the case I've briefed you on."

"Ichigo?" the couple chimed. "Do you have his last name?"

"No. Amnesia is a common factor though considering his trauma."

Toshiro suddenly felt the unbelievable urge to smack Byakuya. He glanced over to Grimmjow to see that the teal haired demon had pulled Kenpachi from Shuuhei and was lifting Yachiru like a stray cat from Ichigo's arms. Kenpachi caught the girl as she was basically dumped in his arms unceremoniously. The other agents stared at Grimmjow dumbly, amazed at the sudden regression to his old habitually pissed off self. This was a person they had had to work with a few times before on hard cases and they'd seen him get himself injured badly because of it. A few years ago, he'd managed to finally shake the personality somewhat but it had still remained…Until Ichigo showed up.

"Clean your house somewhere else," Grimmjow snarled at Kenpachi.

The huge man shifted Yachiru slightly so she could bury her face in his broad chest. Grimmjow had never acted like this before around her – or Shuuhei for that matter. Kenpachi sent a soft glare at Grimmjow unsure as to why he wasn't about to chew the man out but also highly aware that Grimmjow had gotten this way when he was younger. His father had explained it to them all and asked later if they would do what they could to calm that rage.

"Sure," Kenpachi sighed. Grimmjow scoffed and stormed past the two teenagers behind Kenpachi, not bothering to wait for Ichigo to catch up. He didn't have to. Ichigo's brown eyes had connected with gold engulfed by black and he'd raced after Grimmjow like hellhounds were at his heels. The door chimed closed before the albino boy could even move.

"Shiro-kun?" Yoruichi murmured. Her gold eyes were met with darker ones; they glared at her darkly before snapping away. The boy crossed his arms and said something to Shuuhei. The scarred boy sighed but nodded anyway.

"He says he's not gonna talk to the quote useless fucking detectives unquote," Shuuhei muttered. He sent a glare at his friend.

"Detectives?" Renji asked.

A folding fan snapped open. "Yare, yare! I guess we have some explaining to do huh Yoruichi-san?"

* * *

Ichigo sat stiffly on the couch in Aizen's office. Aizen sat back in his chair watching Ichigo fidget without moving outwardly. This was worse than when he'd first started trying to chip away that fearful mask and personality Ichigo had had when he first came to the hospital. Aizen wasn't sure he liked seeing this side of Ichigo again; especially not if it was worse than it had been in the beginning.

"Did something happen today Ichigo?" he asked carefully.

Ichigo's back got impossibly straighter. Aizen leaned forward and watched as Ichigo's eyes widened as if there were some horrid terror before him. Tremors raced up and down Ichigo's body as his breathing became hitched and uneven. Aizen lifted himself from his seat and rounded his desk to squat in front of Ichigo. The boy didn't see him at all.

"Ichigo," he called softly. Brown eyes flicked to him and he felt his blood freeze as Ichigo's fear raced into him. He swallowed bile and repeated his question.

"I-I think I saw someone I know," Ichigo said shakily. "It was after Grimmjow got…mad."

"Mad?" Aizen asked interestedly. "Grimmjow's pretty level headed."

"He wasn't happy with someone at work I guess," Ichigo stammered, his hands flying into his orange hair. His fingers gripped his hair like his life depended on his not letting go. "I don't know who it was, I never saw them. I was busy with Yachiru."

"Alright Ichigo calm down," Aizen cooed feeling out of place. His caught Ichigo's hands and soothed them until they let go finally. "This face you think you knew. Describe it to me."

"It….It was like I was looking in a black and white mirror," Ichigo murmured. "I saw a version of me that was pale as snow, with equally white hair, and the scariest eyes I have ever seen before."

"Scary eyes? Like the ones you said you'd dreamed about?"

"Yes. Gold encased by the darkest, light eating blackness that can only be seen in a black hole. I actually saw them today!" Ichigo was breathing erratically and Aizen shushed him.

"Easy Ichigo. Breathe in slowly and then out." Ichigo did as he was told, tears beginning to stream down his face. "Who did you see though? Yourself or someone else?"

"Shiro-oniisan. I saw Shiro-oniisan."

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**School is about to end and summer is no promise of freedom since it's so close to senior year...Gotta get some refferences sometime right? So here's a chapter as a token of my appreciation to those who have put up with my absence. LONG and with a TWIST!**

* * *

"Who?" Grimmjow yelled at Kenpachi as loudly as he could manage. "They are who?"

"They're Japanese detectives," Kenpachi repeated. "They are very much aware of our case. In fact they have been following a part of it we were unaware of until recently."

"What part exactly?"

"A murder and kidnapping that happened about eight years ago. You remember that one doctor that you said Ichigo kept calling Father?"

Grimmjow's eyes twitched. He remembered alright. He was still trying to talk Ichigo thinking that no father could truly hate his kids. He wasn't sure his little outburst yesterday had helped much considering Aizen had asked if he could keep Ichigo overnight for observation. Something about a slight breakdown and that he might have remembered something that could have dangerous results if he wasn't being watched.

Needless to say, Grimmjow had not slept well last night worrying over what Ichigo could have remembered and why it might be so dangerous to his health. Not to mention he wasn't entirely sure he wanted Ichigo out of sight if there was possibility that Ichigo was remembering a painful memory that might cause more harm than good. Not to mention Ichigo wasn't present with him at work today because of it.

"Yeah," he muttered, turning his eyes to the floor. He heard Kenpachi sigh.

"Yeah well apparently he's friends with the two detectives and they were assigned to his wife's case."

"Wife's… case?"

"Well to be completely accurate it's wife and son's case," Kenpachi murmured to himself. "The wife was killed and the son was kidnapped, never to be seen again but since they found one of the murderers brutally killed a few months or so ago, they reopened the case. They're hoping to find the boy and return him to his family."

"Great," Grimmjow sneered. "However, why was it that Byakuya didn't tell us shit until they were already here?"

"He's told me that he was given a tip and it went through to them. Now, will you shut up and listen to what they have to say to us? They've got another piece to this ridiculous puzzle and for all we know, their cooperation with us may be what we need!"

Kenpachi turned on his heal and entered the war room, leaving Grimmjow behind to stare at the two detectives who were calmly conversing with Byakuya and Starrk. The four were joined by Kenpachi and watched by the other case agents. Toshiro sat near the back of the war room, a laptop before him. His aqua eyes were narrowed at the two detectives but it wasn't necessarily hostile. He was simply wary. Grimmjow slid into the room and slipped into a seat next to Toshiro.

"You're wary," he stated. "What'd I miss out on when I left?"

"You missed them asking you Ichigo was, if we had his last name, and also IDing Shuuhei's friend."

"The pale kid? Who was he?"

"His name is apparently Hichigo Kurosaki however he's planning on changing his last name to Shirosaki according to Shuuhei." Toshiro leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as he sighed. "I hate this. That kid looked a hell of a lot like Ichigo too and his first name is so close in resemblance."

Grimmjow turned his eyes away from Toshiro as the white haired prodigy muttered to himself and tried to ignore the words he was speaking. They weren't helping his mood in the least anyway so it was probably best he shoved them away as fast as possible.

He listened as Urahara and Yoruichi explained their bit of the case along with watching the pictures of the crimes scene and evidence. Grimmjow felt his stomach roll into knots as he saw the pictures of the obviously very beautiful woman roll through the projector with each press of the button from Yoruichi. He tried to not gag at the large blood pool on her stomach from multiple stab wounds or the slight drip of blood from the corner of her mouth, or the completely horrified and lifeless look in her eyes. When had he gotten this sensitive about it all?

However, the image of a family of six made Grimmjow twitch in his seat. The mother was the woman, the father Isshin; the girls were named Yuzu and Karin and proclaimed as twins. Then there were the two boys that looked like mirror images and perfect opposites. The one that looked like a colorful reflection had orange hair that might have rivaled Ichigo's but Grimmjow was far more willing to see it as lighting issues. The one next to him looked pale as snow and looked absolutely possessive of the colorful reflection.

"Since this picture is a few years old, we'll sort of need to either take a picture of Shiro-kun again or ask for a digital aging on this boy," Urahara pointed at the colorful male twin, "Considering we haven't talked to Isshin yet, I don't think Shiro will go for it."

"I'll do the aging for you," Toshiro growled gently. Urahara glanced at him slightly surprised at the tone. "How old is the photo?"

"Ten years? Shiro is about seventeen now."

"Thank you. If you could give it to me sooner rather than later I'll greatly appreciate it."

Toshiro's eyes were on his keyboard as he slid his finger over the finger pad. He tapped a few keys and Grimmjow saw a few files pop up before his eyes and he flipped through them absently. Grimmjow sighed inwardly. Toshiro was horrible when he got engrossed in work. It was like when Grimmjow reverted to that personality that had always been a shield mechanism. He'd thought he'd worked through it but he was finding he was no where near cured of it.

"No…problem I think," Yoruichi sighed in confusion. "I'll take care of that."

"Thank you."

"There anymore on this kid?" Renji asked carefully. Grimmjow tried to not notice they were refusing to say the name around him. All of them were; save for the detectives of course. "What these guys could have put him through considering what Byakuya told you?"

"Not really," Urahara stated. "He and Masaki were coming home from karate practice when it happened. Considering it had been raining that day, the stab wounds were the only things that made the idea of her slipping on wet pavement as the cause of death."

_"I hate rain," Ichigo muttered darkly._ Grimmjow tried to not breathe in too quickly or too loudly. Was that his stomach in his throat or his heart? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. His mouth felt dry. _"Mom died in the rain."_ Grimmjow bit his lip as he tried to not groan in pain as his heart twisted in a loop. Damn he wanted to see Ichigo again. He wanted to talk to him about whatever it was that made him go into himself again.

"Alright," Byakuya stated. "I'll get you the complete files."

Grimmjow glared at Byakuya, highly aware that he wasn't the only one doing so. He couldn't blame the others for feeling slightly annoyed at how he had basically brought in these two for what felt like no reason. Two detectives whose case had found the murder dead a few months ago and that lead led them to America? Byakuya just happened to get a tip? Screw that all to hell! No one in the room was likely to believe that load of bull.

"I think I want to kick him," he heard Rukia growl under her breath as he big brother walked out of the room with the detectives.

"You're not the only one," Grimmjow muttered.

"I'm amazed you haven't gone psycho on his ass yet," Nnoitra muttered.

"Yeah Nnoi," Grimmjow muttered. "Let's just remind me that I lost my cool yesterday why don't we?"

"Sorry," Nnoitra murmured. "Though seriously, I was sort of expecting it. Was anyone else expecting it or not?" A few nods circled around the room and Grimmjow rolled his eyes.

"Anyone feel like giving Toshiro support?" Ulquiorra asked as he flipped through a file Grimmjow didn't recognize. He guessed that it was the one the detectives had just shared with them all. He glanced at Toshiro with a worried expression. Toshiro glanced at Ulquiorra murderously but continued with his work.

"What's happened?" Grimmjow asked.

"Ichigo didn't bring Matsumoto her coffee this morning," Ikkaku explained.

"She's been driving him up the wall," Yumi continued for him, a small smile on his face. He instantly regretted it when Grimmjow's head slammed against the table. Toshiro jumped in surprise and his eyes were as wide as saucers. "I've missed something."

"Uh…Grimmjow?" Toshiro asked.

"Kill me someone," Grimmjow groaned.

"What's happened?" Starrk asked.

"Ichigo had a breakdown yesterday and stayed over at Aizen's last night," I explained quickly. I could feel the unease roll off them in waves.

"A breakdown?" Starrk asked. "An after effect of the events of yesterday?"

"Yeah…Aizen wanted to make sure he was okay if it was a memory that could do more harm than good type thing."

They cussed and Grimmjow felt the air in the room get thicker. He watched Starrk lean back in annoyance. _Ugh_, he thought. _I really didn't need this._

"Has Aizen called you back yet?" Renji asked.

"No," Grimmjow sighed. "It's pissing me off. Aizen knows that Ichigo's my damned responsibility too."

"He also knows that he's the one who's supposed to make that responsibility easier for you," Yammi muttered. "Think about how difficult it'd be if Ichigo had to be stuck in a room with your family and wasn't ready for it?"

"Ouch! Low hit Yammi!" Nnoitra chided as he tossed a paper ball at the larger man. Grimmjow didn't even bother to glare. He simply laid his head on the cool glass table and wished half to god that he could simply disappear to his home and see Ichigo again. Ichigo was a calming person and he was also someone who could listen better than one would think. Not to mention, seeing Ichigo again would mean Grimmjow could ask what he'd remembered.

"If Aizen doesn't call soon," Starrk warned gently, "I'll call him for you."

"Thanks," Grimmjow murmured before his phone buzzed meanly. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID, his back straightening when he recognized the name. He stood as he flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. "Hey, what's up kid?" The room seemed to deflate as he spoke.

"Hi," Ichigo replied on the other end. "Aizen's clearing me for house arrest at the least."

"Bad memory?" Up the fear went, the room feeling heavy and humid.

"I'm not sure yet." Ichigo sounded tense. "Grimm…I…I think I…have family out there…somewhere. I thought I saw a brother yesterday and I…freaked out a bit…A lot."

Grimmjow sighed but nodded with ease. "House arrest it is then. At least until you're feeling better about all of this alright?"

"Okay," Ichigo sighed. "I think I called him Shiro by the way."

Grimmjow automatically held up a hand as if to stop Ichigo from speaking only to remember he wasn't really present. "Later!" he yelped out loud. "Tell. Me. Later."

"Alright," Ichigo said sounding slightly dejected but Grimmjow was sure that he was imagining things. House arrest was not exactly the greatest thing to stick on a seventeen-year-old amnesiac that had been found dangerously beaten up.

"Don't worry about it kid. I'll just work from home until you're feeling better," Grimmjow smiled. It was amazing how much better he felt just because he was talking to Ichigo. The kid really was like a vacuum for his stress even if he was the main cause of it.

"Alright," Ichigo replied. "I'll see you at home later today."

"Yep, see you," Grimmjow said back before the line cut off. Ichigo had hung up; he was probably going back to Aizen to talk things over a bit more. He sighed as he flipped his phone shut. Nel and the others were staring at him worriedly.

"What's up?" Nel asked. "Working from home?"

"Aizen's putting Ichigo under house arrest. For the time being of course but at the moment, I think I want to be out of the office for a while. I hate the bullpen."

"The bullpen or the new pair running around it?" Yammi asked.

"Dare I say both?" That shut Yammi up nicely. Grimmjow smiled at him and walked out of the war room, ignoring the sighs that followed his back. It was so pathetically expected. He didn't really give a damn anymore about how his relationship with Ichigo was viewed. It was kind of apparent that the two were becoming closer than savior and victim but it wasn't exactly being viewed as a bad thing yet.

"Ah! Agent Jaggerjaques!" he heard Urahara call joyfully in a sing-song voice. He suppressed a growl and waited for the man to come up to him and spit out whatever was on his chest. The blonde man was smiling happily.

"I hear you've met Isshin," he said. _Fuck._

* * *

"Another fight Shiro? Really?" Shuuhei asked his friend as his father gently swabbed his new injuries down with antiseptic. Shiro was wincing at every gentle dab of the Q-tip.

Tatsuki and Momo sat nearby in plastic seats, their faces ranging from annoyed to concern in seconds. Momo remained mainly worried and nervous while Tatsuki remained mainly annoyed and pissed. Shuuhei really couldn't blame them considering Shiro had gotten in another fight. He was annoyed it had happened so soon after Shiro had met his father. He really needed Kenpachi giving him the _"Well, he _is_ a delinquent"_ look when he heard about it.

"I didn't do a damned thing!" Shiro roared before hissing in pain as Isshin purposely placed the Q-tip on a scratch and pressed it down.

"Sorry," he said easily. "Grit."

Shiro glared at his father but bit his bottom lip. As much as he disliked all of the attention he was getting over this he really wanted to tell his father that it wasn't his damned fault. The first time in weeks he'd managed to speak to his father, he'd gotten himself into trouble. It wasn't his fault he stuck out like sore thumb and Shuuhei hadn't gotten out of an afterschool tutoring thing in time to save Shiro from the first punch.

"It really wasn't me who started it," he murmured.

"My goodness Isshin!" a slightly cheery voice chimed at the door. "Is this the troublesome one or three?"

"Hello Aizen," Isshin stated calmly as he continued to clean the scratches. "Yes, this is Shiro, my son."

Shiro watched Aizen's right eye twitch at his name and his gold-black eyes narrowed at the brunette man. He noted that Shuuhei had spotted the twitch as well considering his back and stiffened and had moved to stand closer to Shiro, like a guard.

"Shiro huh?" Aizen stated almost calmly. "Interesting…What happened?"

"Some jerks cornered me at school," Shiro muttered.

He refused to look at the brown eyed man who just gave off waves of insane calm. His head was still reeling from some of the events of yesterday. He'd seen that kid, Shuuhei's slight smirk at whatever his expression was, and he'd heard that oh so familiar voice spill out Japanese, and he'd heard the name that white haired young adult had said. Now, Aizen was being weird too. He didn't like how it felt when Aizen was being wary of something that may or may not involve himself.

"Well, that sucks," Aizen replied calmly.

Isshin snorted as he placed a bandage on Shiro's forehead. He pressed it down and Shiro gritted his teeth in pain. Shuuhei stifled his teasing chuckle as he watched Aizen glance at the other injuries and –apparently – made mental notes. It was like he was thinking of something and comparing Shiro's injuries to it. He and Shiro's backs were stiff as Aizen nodded and then moved over to look at a scratch on Shiro's knuckles due to his fist skimming a wall.

"I think it could have been worse," Aizen stated.

"I thought you had a patient to see Doctor," Isshin stated.

"He and I are waiting for Szayel," Aizen said simply. Isshin stiffened.

"You're kidding me right? Szayel does hypnosis stuff."

"I'm trying to clear up a surfacing memory for him and Szayel is probably the best choice for that to happen. Given, I'm going to have to be present while it's happening or he might freak out around him."

Shiro wasn't sure he liked how stiff his father had gotten and wasn't sure he liked the idea of having the Szayel guy around someone that damned twitchy. He'd met Szayel once before when Isshin had tried to talk him into talking to Aizen or another counselor when they'd moved and Isshin had secured a job at the hospital. He never really did like the pink haired pansy ass and personally felt his method of using hypnosis as a medical thing was dumb and beyond stupid considering he didn't want to cluck when ever a timer went off.

"What about having him simply speak to you?" Isshin asked almost casually. Shiro knew that tone. It was Isshin's business tone of voice that only came up around patients when it was over something really important. However, this time it was slightly on edge. That was unusual for him not to mention he was letting it show despite the fact he didn't think he was.

"Every time I try he shuts down and begins to ramble on about other things. Mainly father figures," Aizen mused. He then pointed at the bruising that was beginning to form on Shiro's knuckles. "Might want to ice those and wrap an Ace bandage around them for a day or two," he warned simply, the tone of a doctor seeping into his voice. "I have to get back to my patient. His guardian won't be pleased with me if he is left alone for too long."

"Over protective much?" Tatsuki asked as Aizen began to head for the door.

"The kid has bad trauma causing him to lock away memories. He needs to have someone to talk to and I'm just glad his guardian took him in."

"How bad a trauma?" Shiro muttered darkly.

Isshin's hand flexed as he glared at his son. He was so tempted to smack Shiro upside the head for that comment. However he paused when he felt the cool aura that flowed from Aizen's point in the room. He glanced over only to shiver. Shiro saw the tremor race through his father and looked up to see Aizen's cold gaze focused solely on him.

"Bad," he sighed, his eyes remaining cold. Something flashed within those eyes suddenly. "Please don't speak badly of a patient you don't know about Shiro."

"S-sorry," Shiro whispered turning his head away.

"Thank you," Aizen stated as he exited the room. He didn't get very far. He simply paused and glanced back at Isshin. "I called in those friends of yours Isshin. I hope you don't mind I gave them Byakuya's name and number." The door closed behind him with a soft click. Isshin looked ready to scream and curse. Shuuhei and Shiro blushed slightly. They had a hunch who Aizen was speaking of despite the fact they'd been shoved into desks and told to wait.

"Damn him," Isshin muttered. "I bet I know who he called in and I don't need them hovering over me."

"Oh yeah, they're in town already," Shiro chimed. Isshin glared at him. "What? Shuuhei dragged me to see his dad and there they were!"

"Ice and Ace bandages Hichigo Kurosaki. Ice and Ace bandages," Isshin growled before walking out; after Aizen possibly.

Shiro rolled his eyes. Of course his father was reacting that way. It was only expected considering the girls absolutely loved his old college friends as if they were part of the family even though they had only ever returned with heartbreaking news of no leads being found. Isshin had been great friends with them when it had happened but as time had passed, the friendship had weakened and had teetered on an uneven edge on a dull knife.

Shiro, who'd never really liked them much considering how he had to always pry them off Ichigo – damned idiot for being so fucking cute and adorable – and therefore his rocky relationship with them had become more like a minefield. One wrong thing said and Shiro would blow up at them; and he'd do it spectacularly and quite terrifyingly. He was surprised they even smiled at him.

"I'm going home," he announced to his friends as he pulled on his coat, wincing as he stretched the bandaging beyond its limits slightly. "I don't need guards."

"I beg to differ," Shuuhei sighed. At Shiro's glare he continued, "Considering I've seen people corner you for no real reason other than they see you as a target for fun."

"Besides, don't we need to pick up the girls?" Tatsuki asked a smile on her boyish face. Shiro sighed and nodded. Yes, Isshin would probably work late today considering what he'd just heard. He sighed calmingly and walked out of the clinic room.

Momo tapped after him quickly while Shuuhei and Tatsuki gathered their assorted things. Momo was a shy girl and Shiro didn't really mind that all that much…until he realized that she'd pretty much follow anyone like a sheep would follow a sheep over a cliff. She was horrible about it too. He'd seen her be dragged out of a car by Shuuhei only to scream and kick yelling at Shuuhei to stop what he was doing. Shiro nearly agreed with her until he'd seen the glassy look in her eyes and smelled the alcohol on her breath. The junkie boyfriend in the car was quickly dealt with by Tatsuki and Momo was thrown in the clinic for detoxification.

Shiro was still not completely sure what the hell her problem was but he knew it was mental. He'd come across her in an empty laboratory at school with a razor blade in her hand and blood dripping down her arm slowly. He'd smacked her so hard that if she hadn't been anemic she might have twisted around, flailing for balance. However, due to the loss of blood, she slammed to the floor moaning as she got dizzy. He'd then proceeded to drag her to the nurse's office irritably to clean and wrap her injuries in silence. He then dumped her onto Shuuhei who'd been wide eyed as all hell due to his action.

That of course was half the reason Shuuhei had bothered to make friends with him. Before that, Shiro had been the average new guy who simply went in search for something to do. That was the reason he'd even been on the hill when Shuuhei dragged Momo out of the car with Tatsuki's help. He'd wanted to see what the locals did for fun and wasn't finding it all that damned interesting until the three – four he guessed – had their little scene. He'd been slightly impressed with how loyal the two had been to their apparently suicidal friend so when he'd seen her cutting at the school, he'd snapped.

Naturally, she followed his lead now.

It wasn't all bad though. With her around he'd been less likely to be able to do anything note worthily fun because he didn't feel like having her friends on his ass when he was new in town and he didn't want to have to really be a babysitter to her – she was cute but not as cute as his sisters. A week or so passed before Shuuhei had finally decided to simply drag him into their little group of friends because it was just easier to have him in the group than try to follow him all over the place to keep an eye on Momo.

That was about the time he stopped trying to pick fights for fun – given, most of those were partly because of the idiots who decided he was going to become an example to others. Half the reason he'd started most of those fights was because the attackers were asking for it but the other half was something he wasn't willing to admit yet. Not outwardly anyway.

He wanted to feel something other than regret for not being with his brother, guilt for catching a cold, and the soul eating loneliness that kept gnawing at his heart whenever he thought about his little brother. Of course, since most of his thoughts kept being pulled to his little brother, he wasn't sure how much of his heart was left in tact.

He walked pas this father and Aizen. The two were arguing softly but they might as well have been yelling considering everyone was avoiding them like they were. As he walked on, they were joined by the pink haired hypnotist who began to adjust his glasses automatically. Shiro sneered at them. Of course they weren't getting very far what with the argument that was brewing from his father's side alone.

"Jeeze your dad looks pissed," Tatsuki murmured.

"Thanks," Shiro said sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed that one!"

"Still not talking to him?" Momo asked. Shiro didn't answer. He glanced at Shuuhei questioningly waiting for the other boy to twitch. When he didn't Shiro decided to simply ask.

"Your dad say anything?"

"Other than he's not sure about you? No."

"What?" Tatsuki asked. "You let Shiro meet your dad?" Shuuhei nodded and flinched when Tatsuki swung her fist at him. "Jerk! I've been your friend longer! Why haven't I gotten to meet him yet?"

"'Cause I want to remain friends with you?" he tried. Tatsuki leapt at him. "Oh for god's sake get over it will you?"

"No! I've only met Yachiru!"

"Dad's always on cases! He does undercover shit! In gangs! For god's sake Tatsuki, I don't need him being rude to you because I dragged you into his war zone!"

"Jerk," Tatsuki muttered mainly to herself as she crossed her arms. Momo smiled sadly at her and then waved her goodbyes before diving into the back yard of a house. Shiro hadn't noticed they'd gotten to her place so quickly but waved quickly in response. As soon as she was out of sight, he glanced at Tatsuki.

"You've known her for a while right? What's her issue?"

Tatsuki glared at him darkly and he nearly recoiled from her expecting her fist to fly at his head. Shuuhei held up a hand.

"Momo's a former slave," he explained. "How long have you been friends with her Shiro? You should know this by now from just watching her!"

"No I shouldn't! I had to drag your history out of you after you made a mention at having a foster family remember?"

"Point taken," Shuuhei sighed. Shiro rolled his eyes.

"Dare I ask what kind of slave she was?" Shiro drawled. This time Tatsuki really did smack him and she did it hard.

"Sex," Shuuhei muttered. Shiro tried to stifle his moan of regret and nausea. Sex slaves were some of the worst people to have to deal with; even after the rehabilitation.

"The Hinamori family took her in?" he asked.

"Yeah. When she was placed there by services she thought she was back in a new house with a master and mistress. She feared her dad and waited for both to get drunk one night and…well you know."

"I hate sex slaves," Shiro sighed.

"I don't blame you but she didn't know what was going on. She was still heavily impaired from her last family."

"Quote on quote family," Tatsuki growled. "Let me say one thing about her; she's not as bad as she could be now. She is a good kid."

"A good kid who's damaged badly!" Shiro retorted. "That's your place Tatsuki."

"Yeah," she replied. "See you later. Make sure he gets the girls home Shuuhei!"

The two youths waved good-bye to her and continued on.

"The girls are already home aren't they?" Shuuhei asked resigned to what he was about to hear.

"I told them to get home before the first punch landed near my head."

"So you are a good brother aren't you?"

"Screw you man! If I hadn't seen those guys pointing at me before walking over, I would have had to call the girls later than I did! Besides, I wasn't about to let them think I completely forgot about them!"

"Just admit you're a good brother will you?"

"No."

"I have to pick up Yachiru. I'll see you later Shiro."

"Have fun."

"See you later!"

Shiro sighed and pulled the gray hood over his head and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He was still glad that he was alone to collect his thoughts when he finally noticed the alleyway. It was a little too loud for his liking and he stepped up to it carefully. He knew the sound of a fight when he heard it and was about to walk away when he heard a door slam open. The door had to be metal considering how it squeaked and groaned before hitting the brick walls. A few punks raced out of the alley, dodging Shiro as they careened past. Shiro stepped into the alley to see what had been left.

In a pile of trash was a girl with blonde hair tied up into pigtails. She wore tattered sweatpants that were threatening to fall off soon if she wasn't careful. The door that had slammed open was indeed metal. It looked like an industrial freezer door to Shiro. A tall man with long black hair, wearing sunglasses, was kneeling over the girl. His clothes were hidden by the long, black trench coat he wore over knee high, black boots. He was whispering to the girl in a calming fashion as she tried to regulate her breathing.

"Need help?" Shiro asked as he stepped closer. The man whipped his head around to find Shiro standing nearby. Shiro felt his blood freeze as his hand dove into his coat only to return with a gleaming knife. The guy was fast too; Shiro could have sworn he'd blinked and missed he guy's movement. However, the feel of cold metal on his pale neck made him notice the movements the man had made.

"Who are you?" the man asked as Shiro's hands flew up reflexively.

Of course what Shiro was doing was the most automatic reaction he could have had; he defended himself. The guy was soon on the ground, a grunt escaping his lips as Shiro backed away from him in fear. He had made the mistake of forgetting the girl and he learned it the hard way. Her fist slammed into his lower back and then she flipped his ass to the ground.

"Fuh-huck!" he gasped out as air slammed out of his lungs. The girl placed her foot on his throat and Shiro kicked his legs up. They managed to connect with her shoulders and caused her to fall forward, releasing her hold on him. He flipped back onto his feet and fisted his hands. The man came back but Shiro wasn't anywhere near ready for him as his arms wrapped around his neck and the knife was against his neck again.

"I asked you a question."

"Name's Shiro," Shiro answered quickly. The knife eased up a bit.

"You fight well considering you don't have any Indications," the man said.

"Indications? What are you talking about?" Shiro gasped.

"No Indications?" the girl scoffed. "No way! He fights too well!"

"People pick on me! Let me go you ass!" Shiro roared as he began to kick his way free. The man let go of him and watched him turn to face them both. Shiro pointed at both, his finger moving from one to the other. "What the fuck have I missed?"

"Run away slave," the girl sneered. "I'm the run away slave and he," she jabbed her thumb at the man, "is my so called underground railroad."

"Oh good Hiyori," the man sighed. "Tell him everything. He's not part of this!"

"Actually, he is since he's seen us!"

"Run away slaves…" Shiro breathed.

"Happens all the time kid," Hiyori sneered. "Wow you look pale. You okay?"

"I've just gotten myself into a shit load of trouble here!" Shiro yelled at her as he backed away. "How do you think I feel? Ah! Damned light." His hand shot up to shield his eyes, surprised it was really that damned dark out already. Well, winter was only supposedly ending right? Of course it was that dark out already. His gold-black eyes adjusted and he let his hand drop to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Whoa," he heard Hiyori whisper. "He looks like one of the others I saw in the cages."

_Tune her out, tune her out! Alright, think Shiro! You know people in the damned FBI! Well you know a kid who has a foster parent in the FBI! Maybe Kenpachi can help! Yeah! Talk to Kenpachi!_

"No," the man ground out. "He looks like my student."

"Huh? You taught the dark haired kid that orange haired slave taught?"

_Tune her out! Wait a second!_

"Orange haired?" Shiro asked. "Orange haired and looks like me?"

"No, I taught the orange head," the man stated. "His name was-."

"Ichigo!" Shiro cut in.

"Yes."

"Holy shit! You knew my brother! Wait…cages?"

"Oh dear god," the man stated. "Relax will you? I'm sure he's survived that place."

"Survived?" Shiro asked.

"He's become part of this then?" Hiyori asked gently to the man. He nodded and she sighed. "Call your folks. Tell them you're at a friends!"

"What?" Shiro asked. His brain was still trying to make sense of what was going on. The man sighed and repeated her words. Shiro found himself calling his sisters and lying his ass off to them both. He then found himself lying to his father as well. The man then dragged him into the building gently and almost in a fatherly manner.

"Alright," he said. "Breathe will you?"

He shoved Shiro into a seat causing the youth to fully wake up. He looked about the place and took in the nice furniture in the actually quite nice apartment. Shiro glanced at the tall man as he freed himself from the coat to reveal he wore black from head to toe. The man pointed a room out for the girl and she disappeared to reappear in better clothes; a red track suit.

"Explanation would be great!" Shiro yelled at them. The man sank into a leather chair and lit a cigarette casually. Hiyori however plopped herself down on the floor.

"When's your friend supposed to show up Zan?" she asked.

"Soon," he replied. The doorbell rang and Hiyori bounced up to get it. Shiro tried to ignore how many bandages there were on her arms and legs. The door opened to reveal a skinny blonde man in what looked like a formal suit for work. The coat hung over his arm until he tossed it onto a nearby chair.

"Who's this?" the blonde asked.

"Newcomer," the man stated as he blew out smoke from his nostrils. "He saw Hiyori and I in the alley. He can fight but doesn't have Indications."

"No Indications? I'm impressed," the blonde stated.

"The hell are you talking about?" Shiro muttered. The man blew out a column of smoke.

"We're talking about scars or marks that indicate that you are or – like myself and Hiyori here – once were a slave in the Ring. A slave that fought every day to survive a day if not another hour."

"I'm the newest escapee," Hiyori explained to the new guy.

"I'm Shinji Hirako," the blonde said.

"Does your boyfriend mind you sneaking out to see other friends?" the man asked.

"Oh please Zangetsu!" Shinji laughed. "He knows I'm too loyal to do that. So the newcomer has experience with slaves?"

"His brother was my student apparently," Zangetsu stated. Shiro gulped.

"My little brother's a total wimp!" Shiro whimpered to himself more than to the others.

"If he was a wimp he wouldn't have gotten trained," Hiyori murmured. Shinji nodded before his eyes lit up slightly.

"Holy shit! I just remembered!" he scowled at apparently himself. "Zan! My boyfriend, Nnoitra, is in the FBI. Their case is getting bigger by the way he's going on about it every so often. He can't go into specifics but I think he's going after your people."

"Well hooray for them," Zangetsu stated. This man oozed calm but it was sweeter than Aizen's brand. Aizen was just unnerving. Zangetsu was literally calming to be near. It was strange considering Shiro was sure he was in a head on freak out session.

"Why aren't you happy about that?" Hiyori asked. "I mean come on! I got out of that place too! I want them tracked down!"

"I wanted my student to get out and I never did manage to get free to someone I felt could help me out. About the time I managed to break that person's neck, I'd figured out I was the best one to help anyone in that system."

"Hence this system," Shinji stated. He was smiling, a piano splitting his face. "Since you're in here, I'm guessing you are in."

"In? Into what exactly?"

"In on moving slaves into a stable lifestyle outside the cages," Zangetsu stated. He took another drag and exhaled slowly. "Name kid."

"Hichigo Kurosaki," Shiro said nearly hitting himself. "I prefer Shiro though."

"Fine then," Zangetsu grunted. "Know anyone who is a licensed doctor?"

"Huh?"

"I'll take that as a no," Shinji sighed. Hiyori glanced back an forth uneasily.

"Fine," Zangetsu sighed as he put the cigarette out. "Do me a favor then. The scale and tweezers are in the bathroom over there. Get them and bring the alcohol and bandages."

"Huh?" Shiro yelled.

"They put chips into slaves now," Shinji explained. "Usually in the back of the neck. We have to get it out so they can't track her."

"Get the stuff will you?" Zangetsu barked his voice oddly still soft and calm. Shiro stumbled away to the bathroom Zangetsu had pointed out to get what he'd been told to get. When he came back he tried to say his father's job and then thought better of it. His father was already ticked off enough and knowing him, he'd tell Urahara and Yoruichi.

"This dark haired version you spoke of Hiyori," Zangetsu stated as he gently pulled out the chip from her neck. She was clutching Shinji's arms for dear life while Shiro held her hair out of the way and kept a good light on the incision. "Has he given you his name?"

"N-no," she gasped out. "Though he knows Ichigo because the guy trained him…He's his second student."

"Second?" Zangetsu asked. "What about the first? Sold off or killed?"

"Killed. Couldn't take the Ring. He got paired up with someone and let them kill him."

"Who?" Shiro asked before he could stop himself.

"I don't think you want to know."

A phone rang and suddenly Shinji was prying himself from the girl to answer it. Shiro took his place with an odd sort of ease. His head had him pretending it was his little brother. That made it easier to do.

"Hey Nnoitra…Yes I'll be there soon…Love you too…Bye." He returned again and took up the flashlight. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Bandage her up. Shiro, with me."

"Yes."

"Your brother…Twins?"

"Identical save for me being a paler version."

"You're the elder?"

"Y-yes. Why?"

"Trying to figure out why he was the way he was."

"W-was?"

"I got out. He didn't. You get my point there right?" Shiro nodded. "Good. Ichigo's no wimp. I'm sure he managed."

"Thanks so much."

"Sarcasm gets you no where around me just so you know."

"Thanks."

"Thicker skull then your brother."

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**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**New chap...Sorry it's short.**

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Kaien stared at the cage that had once housed Hiyori was empty. Her friends were scattered to the wind in different cages while at the same time, Soifon was getting her ass handed to her in the Ring. Kaien's spot as a Top Fighter was still secure thank god but it'd come with its own little price. His arm was broken and needed to be professionally set.

The Masters knew this too. He was quickly taking the spot as best fighter and they wanted their best fighter – even if it meant having to let him heal up for real to be on top of his game. He really didn't mind though. He actually didn't give a shit about it. His morals were gone and the only people willing to make friends with him were either escaping or getting into the Ring more often; the latter was the more popular trend.

Escaping meant a chase and most of the chases had ended up the same; dead slave. Hiyori had been the most recent to disappear but about two days had passed and no one had come back with her limp body yet so Kaien had some hope for the girl. Hope that he was quickly beating down every time it surfaced. He couldn't afford to hope. Not here. Hope was for when he got out – if he got out – which wasn't very likely to happen soon. For now, he'd have to work with what he had and that was pretty much nothing.

"Hey Slave," a young voice called to him.

He let his head fall over to see who dared speak to him. It was one of the younger Masters but he knew this one. The cocky fuck who liked beating on the other slaves. Kaien remembered him taking most of his problems out on a certain orange headed slave who'd do nothing to him at all. All Ichigo had to do was be present and a fist came out of no where. Attacking the Masters wasn't allowed either but there had been a few too many stray fists from this guy. Hence why Ichigo wasn't there anymore.

"You're going to see a doc tomorrow Slave. Be happy you're so fucking special."

"Yes Master," Kaien returned in kind. His head lolled back into position and he let his eyes focus somewhere else. Dumb idea. He should have watched the cocky fucker. Said cocky fucker entered his cage and gripped the broken arm tightly. Kaien screamed in pain but managed to keep himself from swinging. The man tossed him against the bars and leaned against him to laugh in his ear.

"So fucking special yet you can't do anything to me huh? Guess you're not as dumb as your teach huh? Too bad you're really not worth much completely broken. Don't know why we're keeping you around."

_I'm the son and heir of a company_, Kaien thought daringly. _And Ichigo could kick your ass if he'd tried. Oh wait he did! _He was shoved against the bars harder by the man until an enraged shout came from above.

"Put him down you stupid bastard!" Kaien dropped to his knees, grunting when they hit hard concrete. He bit his cheeks and refused to react.

"Fucking stupid bastard," he hissed once the man left hearing range.

"Good control you've got," Soifon whispered. When had she come back? Why was she in his cage? "Easy. I won't do anything. Are you really going to a doctor?"

"It's broken. My arm. I'm too valuable now apparently."

"Stop being valuable."

"Why? They're keeping me alive."

"Until you're not good enough anymore!" she hissed. "Think! Even Ichigo wouldn't have gone for this! He wanted to be killed if he was pitted against you right? He wanted out! You should too!"

"Get over it will you?"

"No! For fuck's sake! Will you stop being what you are? It's going to get you killed."

Soifon huffed and turned away from him. Kaien sighed softly and then glanced at the skylights above him.

_Did you ever think that was all I want to do?_

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**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**New chap...Sorry it's late.**

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Zangetsu could not fucking believe his eyes.

He was busy watching Shiro from afar as the albino youth spoke to friends as if his world hadn't been turned upside down and inside out all thanks to a stupid moment of "wrong place at the wrong fucking time." The elder man had to give the kid some credit though on how well he was acting. He couldn't find a flaw in it anywhere and he was looking for them. His friends would be too considering he had probably explained his past to them. At least the reason he was so screwed up. Losing a mother and a mirror image twin did things to people – especially when it happened all at once.

Zangetsu shook his head at the audacity of the young man before him. His acting was a little too good for the circumstances too. The elder man had not seriously expected the boy to be able to drag up a perfect act in so little time. Hell, Shinji was the best damned actor Zangetsu had ever met and even he'd had a hard time making up excuses for his FBI boyfriend. Shiro however seemed able to simply…fall into an act. It was like watching a professional liar, well, _lie_.

He took a drag from his cigarette and watched as the boy caught a girl by the scruff of her collar and dragged her back to the group without dragging his gold-black eyes from the tall, lithe, dark haired boy he was speaking to. Zangetsu watched as the girl stumbled back to his side and then pouted at him. They shared a few words about something but due to where he was he couldn't hear them. He had a feeling that it was friendly banter going off what their expressions were set as.

Shiro's eyes managed to slide over to find Zangetsu across the street. The dark haired man could feel his eyes on him. His muscles twitched as he felt the look of pure annoyance and fear. It was an interesting feeling to have dancing over his skin. He hadn't felt that feeling since…He stopped thinking then. He waved a two finger salute with his cigarette fingers. Shiro's eyes snapped back to his friends and Zangetsu watched as he wriggled free of them.

"Just for reference's sake," Shiro muttered as he strode up to Zangetsu. "You're my boss for a job. You make up the fuckin' job because I'm not that damned creative." He was waving a hand back and forth as he spoke like that one female character from _Dead Like Me_. Zangetsu nodded and flicked the dying butt to the ground carelessly.

"Hiyori is helping me find the place she escaped from," he explained. "Do you have a video camera?"

"W-well yeah."

"Good," Zangetsu chuckled. "Consider yourself a freelance photographer and filmmaker then Shiro."

"Thanks," Shiro replied sarcastically. Zangetsu chuckled again as Shiro began to shift his feet uncomfortably. The elder man glanced over at the school yard to find the friends were still together but the lithe boy was watching Shiro carefully.

"Your friend seems a bit over protective," he stated.

"Who?" Shiro asked as he glanced back. A faint blush covered his cheeks and his head snapped back to look at Zangetsu. "That's Shuuhei. His Dad's in the FBI too. He's working with Shinji's boyfriend."

"That girl you stopped. Former sex slave or what?" Shiro nodded. "Thought so. Come on, we're getting to be late."

"Right," Shiro mumbled.

As they walked through the streets, Zangetsu paid close attention to how Shiro watched his back. He'd glance over his shoulders and was tensed and ready for anything that could come his way. Zangetsu smiled softly at the odd feeling of déjà vu as he watched the boy. _Just like Ichigo huh?_

"You're father," Zangetsu stated calmly. "He's a doctor isn't he?"

"Y-yeah, he is."

"You've told me plenty about yourself with just that alone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll explain," he stated. "With your looks you come off as a punk yet if someone were to actually watch you interact with people, they would know that you were extremely protective of people you manage to give a shit about. You're also careful about dragging people you really give a shit about into your fucking problems. Yet, despite it all you're a whiny little boy who wants his baby brother back and the first actual, tangible lead you ever get is not exactly the greatest one you could have gotten now is it?"

"Thanks for the fucking pep talk Zangetsu," Shiro snarled. "No it wasn't the greatest thing to hear my brother was kidnapped by fucking crazies who shoved him into a cage to act as a punching bag until he fought back and got thrown into a cage with you only to have to fight for his life every single fucking day!"

Zangetsu blinked. He knew Shiro couldn't really see the action considering the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He knew Shiro was probably only seeing his stoic expression as tears began to form in the corners of his eyes before dribbling down his pale cheeks. He also knew very damned well that the boy hadn't even noticed he'd started crying.

He wasn't about to point it out though.

"Point taken," he replied smoothly as he continued on his way. "The plan is simple; we tape the people for maybe a day or two and we anonymously send the tape to the FBI when I so see fit."

"Hoo-fuckin'-ray," Shiro said with a sneer.

"Please understand something," Zangetsu stated. "I need a damned contact that isn't Shinji's boyfriend. I swear to god if I have to hear him go on about his lover one more fucking time, I will personally kill him."

Shiro looked a tad taken aback by the comment but he didn't say so. Zangetsu couldn't really blame him on it. He didn't come off as the type who cussed people out. However, he tended to slip up when he thought of Shinji and his damnable love life. He didn't hate gays – hell, he admired them greatly considering how much shit they went through – he just disliked how Shinji went on and on about things like that. To tell the truth, he really didn't need to know when and where the two of them fucked.

"I don't think Shuu's dad likes me."

"He's an agent right? He has to make split decisions based on usual stereotypes and what he sees. I'll bet that you weren't exactly put in a position to get off on the right foot."

"How can you tell?"

"Shuuhei's the lithe one with dark hair? What's his story exactly?"

"Formerly abused slave too."

Zangetsu nearly blanched. "You really do seem to have a problem with all of this stuff. You seem to make friends with all the, so-called, broken people."

"Don't you fall into that category?"

"Yes," Zangetsu deadpanned. He turned a corner and Shiro found himself in the alley again. Zangetsu moved for the metal door, calmly unlocking it and yanking it open again. Shiro stumbled after him, his eyes trained on the floor.

"I can get my camera to you tomorrow morning if you want," he offered. Zangetsu nodded his appreciation.

"That will help greatly," the man stated before the phone rang. He sighed and yanked it up to his ear. "Yes? Hello Shinji."

Shiro glanced around, waving half heartedly to Hiyori when she poked her head out of a spare room. She waved back as she padded out of the room.

"You're coming with us?" she asked. He shrugged.

"He's not really telling me much." She snorted at him but her eyes sparked with understanding. He guessed the girl understood the feeling.

"Fucking dumbass," Zangetsu hissed into the phone. "Next time watch what you say around him will you?" A pause. "Oh for fuck's sake what are you saying? I can't understand a fucking word you're saying." Another pause followed. "Oh just come here will you?" He slammed the phone back onto the receiver and began to mutter curses as he stormed around his apartment.

"Uh…Dare I ask?" Shiro murmured to Hiyori. She shook her head, her eyes slightly wide in warning. Shiro simply nodded in understanding. He knew that look; Karin had always given it to him when she managed to get enough time to do so before he mouthed off to his father. Or when he was about to step in deep shit. He'd learned to recognize it quickly; even though he didn't always take the warning seriously.

"Shinji's coming over," Zangetsu announced with dangerous ease. "Do me a favor and wring his damned neck for me when he comes in."

"Good man," Shiro murmured as Zangetsu flopped into his seat and lit a new cigarette.

Shinji didn't take long to show up considering he looked like he'd sprinted all the way over there. He huffed almost painfully as he tried to catch his breath. Shiro didn't bother to try to understand what Shinji was saying. The blonde was speaking so quickly that it was difficult to follow but it didn't really matter considering Hiyori could follow him and was busy translating to Zangetsu as well as Shiro; not that the latter was really listening.

"So anyway," Shinji said slowly as his breath began to come back. "Nnoitra was saying something about Grimmjow again." Zangetsu rolled his eyes but motioned for Shinji to continue. "Grimmjow took in this kid remember? Well, I finally got to meet him. Holy shit he really does look like him!"

"Thanks for the notice," Zangetsu muttered. "Who does this kid look like again?"

"Shiro," Shinji stated.

Shiro twitched and felt himself sinking into his chair. He suddenly hoped to god he was going with Zangetsu. It was strange how quickly Shiro had come to think of him as a person he could talk to. Why not? The man had already read into his life in two weeks. He was more of a father to Shiro than Isshin was at the moment – even if Shiro was beginning to see that it really was his damned fault that his father couldn't stand to be near him. Either way, he didn't really want to talk about the boy he'd seen at the FBI who'd looked terrified of him at first glance.

It hadn't helped the kid really did look a lot like what Ichigo might have looked like if he were still around.

Zangetsu smiled a fake smile. It was more irritated than happy. "Wonderful. Make friends with the kid then!" he roared causing Shinji to flinch slightly. The blonde idiot chuckled nervously as he nodded in a jerking motion.

"Sure thing," he replied. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good! In the mean time, Shiro if you have any homework to do you'd better be able to go without sleep. You're coming with Hiyori and me."

"Alright," Shiro said easily. He'd done his homework already.

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**New chap...Sorry it's late.**

* * *

"I don't think I like that Szayel guy," Ichigo murmured to Grimmjow. Grimmjow's fingers paused, hovering over the keyboard shaking slightly. He had been in the middle of searching a name that Ichigo spoke of once before when Ichigo had spoken. The teal haired agent knew he'd heard that name before. Why did his stomach twist and flip at the sound of that name? It wasn't like him.

"Szayel?" he asked. "Who's he?"

"Hypnotist shrink," Ichigo murmured. Grimmjow groaned. He remembered where he'd heard that fucking name before. Aizen had mentioned it at one point when he tried to explain that it may help bring up more memories. Of course, Grimmjow hadn't gone for it after Aizen had explained the problem being that he couldn't control what memories may come from the hypnotism. Oh yes, Grimmjow was really going to deal with dangerous memories.

"Remind me to smack Aizen the next time I see him."

"Am I going to get into trouble if I do?"

"Not with me and I'm sure he'll understand when I am bellowing at him through my teeth," Grimmjow grated out as he began typing again. His fingers stabbed the keys roughly as he vented his anger out on the inanimate object.

"Okay," Ichigo murmured.

Grimmjow's fingers came to a halt then and he massaged his temples. He glanced over to the living room to see Ichigo on the love seat, in a ball, and picking idly at the stitching of the seats. Grimmjow sighed and stood from his seat at the table that he had bought to act as a dinner table. It had become his at home desk with in the few days he'd been staying at home with Ichigo under his house arrest.

"Did you meet Szayel when you were with Aizen?" Grimmjow asked as he plopped down next to Ichigo. The orange head nodded. "I'm sorry about that. I told Aizen not to do that to you. Apparently he didn't listen to me."

"Grimmjow," Ichigo seemed to whimper as he leaned forward, to lean into Grimmjow's chest. Grimmjow wrapped his arm over Ichigo's shoulders as they began to shake slightly.

"What happened?" Grimmjow asked gently. "You can tell me what happened you know that right?"

"I watched my mom die all over again," Ichigo sobbed, his hands gripping Grimmjow's shirt as if it were the last tangible thing in the world. "I was going home with her from practice…it was raining again…Fucking weather men…I couldn't do anything when they started attacking us."

"Hush," Grimmjow cooed, his muscles twitching as his mind dragged him back, kicking and screaming to the debriefing on the Masaki Kurosaki case. Urahara and Yoruichi were suddenly in the room with him, their words clearer than before. He heard every gory detail and every little hint they had followed.

He watched as the book known as Ichigo's life opened up to a blank page. The page began to shine slightly as images and perfectly written calligraphy morphed onto it. Something made him feel that the damned ink of the words had traces of gold in it due to how it glowed. He began to wonder if there was silver in the paint for the pictures thanks to how the eyes of the people seemed to really come to life. The crime scene photos began to appear as little dots of color became groupings of color and patterns of shadows and lighting. He felt sick.

"Did you get your mother's name from it all?" Grimmjow heard himself ask. The youth nodded pathetically as he sniffed and sobbed into Grimmjow's shirt. Grimmjow waited as he tried to resist the damned urge to ask what her name was. All he could only beg that Ichigo didn't say 'Masaki' after everything.

"Masaki…"

_God fucking damn it all!_ Grimmjow hugged him tightly as he tried to not scream aloud. Oddly, he was actually helping Ichigo out despite how shitty he felt. Ichigo calmly began to release Grimmjow's shirt as his sobs softened.

"Oh man, you're going to fucking hate me…" Grimmjow sighed.

"Why would I hate you? You saved me remember?"

"Yeah…I did." Grimmjow gripped the youth a bit tighter before easing him off gently. "Let me get something to explain."

"Alright…What is it?"

"A file," Grimmjow stated as he strode to the table. He shifted through the papers until he found the one he was looking for; the file on Ichigo's mother…In the original Japanese. "I need you to read it. I promise I didn't know until…You can hate me after you finish."

Ichigo took the file and opened it slowly. Grimmjow was suddenly glad he had put the pictures somewhere that actually fucking locked. That god for the privacy of his at home office room; aka the study downstairs. The drawers of the desk actually locked and therefore he kept the more private and personal shit in them. As Ichigo looked through the file, Grimmjow sank into a seat nearby but not right next to Ichigo. He wasn't quite ready to get smacked.

The file began to shake and Ichigo's lower lip began to quiver. He read through it all before tossing it away like it burned. Grimmjow waited for the anger to make it through the rest of Ichigo's feelings. He'd only given the kid the Japanese version because Ichigo was making it painfully obvious that he was better at reading Kanji, Hiragana, and Katakana than he was at English. He knew English, he just was better with symbols.

"So…Mom's case is part of mine?" Ichigo asked as tears stung his eyes. Grimmjow nodded slowly, his teal eyes concerned and scared. Ichigo stood and began to pace, his hands gripping his hair tightly and his teeth chewing his bottom lip. "The file says…Dad moved to America and stopped contacting them…Yet they always contacted him right? That's how you got this file right?"

"Yes," Grimmjow replied. "Hell…They're here."

"Who?"

"Kisuke Urahara and Yoruichi Shihoin."

"Aunty Yoruichi and Uncle Kisuke? They're here?"

Grimmjow groaned inwardly but he nodded. He hadn't expected those words to come from Ichigo's lips but he was getting used to it. For some reason, it seemed almost natural that was who they were to Ichigo and his siblings. He wouldn't be surprised if his tough ass, punk of a brother called them the same titles.

"Yeah, they're here…Your sisters are really pretty by the way."

Ichigo smiled. It was that heartbreakingly glad and confused smile one only saw once in a lifetime if they were lucky. Grimmjow knew he'd seen it before thanks to his job. A woman's husband was killed and she'd felt god awful about their last fight. It took a few days to run the men down and during that time, she hadn't been able to go home. When she did, she'd had a message on her machine; from her husband, minutes before he died, promising to make up for what he'd said to her. It had been a lavish promise of cooking and cleaning for a month if the man had to. Grimmjow still remembered the feeling as his own stress eased at the sight of that smile on her face.

"And Dad?" Ichigo asked his voice shaking as he sniffled and whipped his eyes in a vain attempt to hide his tears. "He…He doesn't-?"

Grimmjow shook his head. "I know worried parents when I see them. He's suffering from it…I finally know what that 'it' is. You have an identical fucking twin!"

"Shiro-oniisan," Ichigo whispered. "I saw him at the building."

"Your breakdown," Grimmjow murmured his eyes glazing over slightly. He only noticed Ichigo again when the boy snapped his fingers in his face.

"Yeah…That," he murmured. "How's Shiro-oniisan doing?"

"He's friends with Kenpachi's kid Shuuhei."

"Shuuhei?" Ichigo cocked his head.

"Formerly, badly abused, slave. Kenpachi took him in as a son as well as making him a free kid. You met him a few weeks ago remember?" Ichigo nodded as his mind finally hooked onto something tangible.

"Free," Ichigo whispered as he sank onto the balls of his feet. "Why-?"

"Think about how you were found Ichi. Shuuhei's abuse was nothing compared to yours, trust me."

"How?"

"He was just beaten. You fought for life because you had no other choice for survival. He got out because he had a different situation; one that was better than it really seemed. It was way better than yours."

"How so? We were both beaten!"

"He didn't nearly die from a beating! Not to mention, you had multiple people beating you up. He had one beating at him at a fucking time and they at least waited a few months as they let him heal up! Did they give you that in the Ring?"

Grimmjow hadn't noticed he'd stood until he'd stopped yelling. He found himself looking down at Ichigo, who'd stood to back away slightly. His brown eyes were wide and fearful. Grimmjow had never blown up at him like this before and the thing was Grimmjow had a fucking point. Of course, it didn't help that Grimmjow's point was stabbing Ichigo in the heart.

"_Gomenasai_," Ichigo whispered as he let his eyes fall to the floor. "I see your point."

"Fuck my point! I don't really give two shits if you see my fucking point Ichigo! All I want from you is for you to understand why I did what I did!"

Lithe arms suddenly wrapped around Grimmjow's neck, soft orange hair tickling the bottom of his chin. He spun his arms in tiny circles as he tried to regain his balance from the unexpected movement. When he'd regained his balance, he felt his arms slowly wrap around a lithe waist, one hand smoothly sliding to rest between the shoulder blades of the young man.

"Thank you Grimmjow," Ichigo whispered. "Thank you for 'adopting' me into your home when you didn't have to."

Grimmjow smirked. "Trust me kid, I had to."

* * *

"This is amazing shit!" Nnoitra guffawed. "Who sent us this?"

"Grimmjow," Starrk stated. "Anonymous tipster."

Kenpachi glared at the screen intently until he paused it and jabbed his finger at it.

"Found him," he snarled. Indeed he had. There, on screen, sat a very badly injured Kaien. A broken arm and multiple lacerations could barely be spotted despite the obvious distance of the camera. He looked like hell considering his condition but other than that, he seemed to be surviving. Kenpachi paused the playback and rounded to Toshiro who sat behind a laptop.

"Get a closer look at that arm for us will you?" he asked from his seat. Toshiro nodded and pulled it up as close as he could without degrading the picture into pixels. He was suddenly glad that the camera was actually quite good despite the fact that it was so far away from its target. The cast on Kaien's arm was clearly defined.

"A cast in that place?" Nnoitra asked.

"Do we have any idea what that may mean?" Ulquiorra asked. Halibel shook her head as did Neliel and Rukia. The rest of the agents sat uneasily in their seats as they tried to think through the meaning of the cast.

"It means he's getting time to heal," Urahara muttered.

"This isn't good," Yoruichi murmured. "If they're letting him heal up for another fight, it means he's getting to be valuable to them."

"Meaning it'll be harder to get him out of there huh?" Renji asked. The two detectives nodded slowly, their eyes not focusing in on him or any of the other agents. "Shit."

"Well said," Ikkaku stated as he straightened in his seat. "This isn't looking good."

"It's about to get worse," Starrk murmured. "Old man Yamamoto is on his way down here. He wants to speak to us."

"Oh fuck me!" Kenpachi roared. "Why? What does he want?"

"He seemed a little pissed off that Grimmjow sent him the video rather than us."

"Why would your man do that?" Urahara asked.

Starrk shrugged. "No idea."

The elevator doors chimed loudly and the groups' collective eyes glanced towards the lift to wonder who was coming over. It was indeed the old man Yamamoto who was in fact the director of the FBI. He was the boss of the bosses. His long beard was tied up with purple ties and he had noticeable battle scars from his previous life as a military man. The wooden club he used as a cane was all for show, he had no need of it seeing as he could move quite quickly if he so desired. Once one had seen him move – actually, seriously move – they did everything in their power to never have him move at them.

"And the shit storm begins," Yumi muttered as he tugged at his dress shirt.

"No kidding," Yoruichi murmured. A slight dinging sound caught her attention and her yellow eyes glanced towards Toshiro's computer. "What's up Hitsugaya?"

"Your DNA sample from Isshin Kurosaki," Toshiro explained softly as he rubbed his face over with his hand His aqua eyes looked tired. "It matches…"

"Who?" she asked, genuinely interested.

Her thoughts strayed back to the orange haired youth she'd seen her first day here. She really hoped that it was her Ichigo. She wanted that search to be over with and buried. She hated herself for taking forever to find Masaki's killer but she hated herself more for never finding Isshin's second son before now. However, she hadn't expected what came to her in response; Toshiro glared at her like he was outwardly blaming her for everything that had happened with the case.

She didn't have a chance to ask why he was reacted the way he was due to the door of the war room opening and Yamamoto storming in.

"How nice," the impressive man snarled softly. "You've gotten an eye on him finally. Congratulations all of you for your hard work." He glared at the two detectives. "As glad as I am that you have come to help us out on this case, I would have preferred you'd come to meet me before this." He glared at the screen again before continuing. "It's good to know that we have proof he's alive at least."

"Yes it is good to know that," Starrk stated his eyes narrowed. "Feel like telling me what the hell is wrong?"

"Your best man, Grimmjow Jaggerjaques, has asked to be pulled off the case," Yamamoto explained.

"What?" Kenpachi roared. "Why?"

"He said he's done with it. He wouldn't go into detail." He glanced at Toshiro. "Just so you all know I've reviewed the results of that test you all asked for. Your found slave now has a last name; Kurosaki."

Yoruichi and Urahara shared a look. Ichigo Kurosaki. Their search was over in some ways but even they knew they weren't done yet. They would have to ask for permission to take the boy back home to his family – his real one – and from what they could understand of how the boy had been found there would have to be a shit ton of therapy. Hell, they couldn't be sure that the boy even remembered his family at all. They were no where near done yet.

"Kurosaki," Nel breathed. "You mean-?" Her words cut off abruptly when her coal eyes made contact with Urahara and Yoruichi. Yamamoto nodded simply and waited as the understanding sank in.

"The thing about this is that Ichigo is set in a slave role," he murmured as his agents' eyes finally widened to his liking. "He's also probably already very comfortable with his life as Grimmjow's right hand and I'm not about to upend his life again."

"Grimmjow is quitting this case because of that?" Byakuya asked calmly. He ignored the glares that were shot in his direction. Yamamoto shrugged slightly.

"I really didn't ask," he stated.

He was lying of course. He had asked and had been satisfied enough with the simple statement Grimmjow had given him: _"It's gotten too close to home for me. I'd liked to remain as far from it as I can; considering it's living in my home now."_ He had been pleased enough by that and he could understand why Grimmjow felt the way he did. Ichigo was becoming a part of the group and Grimmjow was not the only one who had been affected apparently; Yamamoto could see it in their eyes when he'd explained that Ichigo had a last name again.

Of course, there was always the thing he wasn't telling the team but he planned to wait for the granted permission to go through to Toshiro before he said anything. Hell, he was actually looking forward to the team's reaction to what they would find in those files.

He'd already warned Grimmjow about that when the teal haired agent was about to leave but it didn't matter. Grimmjow had simply smiled and said he knew and that Ichigo knew. Ichigo remembered what had happened in his life apparently and he was going with it as if it wasn't a burden to carry. That much had been apparent from the way Grimmjow had smiled.

"Liar," Starrk muttered. "You asked didn't you?"

"Forget it," Yamamoto said. "I will just say this; do not act with Ichigo unless Grimmjow gives you permission. He is the boy's guardian now after all."

"Fine," Starrk muttered. "What do you want us to do about the case then?"

"Grimmjow suggested you find Ichigo's trainer, Zangetsu. Apparently he was a Top Fighter as well."

"A Top Fighter who disappeared from the ring years ago," Toshiro stated. "The chip we got from Ichigo may have been damaged but it was usable for a few things. That was one of them." His explanation had moved through the room quickly but easily. He knew what it meant if a slave had been sold to another ring or master only to disappear; they were most likely dead.

"I did a bit of searching on the person who bought him," Matsumoto chimed. "The man was an abusive son of a bitch and I guess he probably went a bit too far seeing as he was killed."

"How was he killed?" Renji asked.

"He took a solid punch to the jaw and his head slammed into a granite counter top as he fell back. That broke his neck," Matsumoto explained slowly. "Personally, he deserved it. He had a long rap sheet, most of it on abusing his slaves, and had the well armed defense lawyers."

"Wonderful," Ulquiorra murmured. "All charges on him were dropped right?"

"Yes," Toshiro sighed.

"The man deserved to die yes," Yamamoto stated. "Not to mention, the act was probably done out of self-defense on Zangetsu's part – if it really was him who did the act. I doubt it wasn't him who did it."

"So…Do we have anything on Zangetsu?" Nel asked. Toshiro shook his head.

"Nothing I could find," he replied. Yamamoto nodded in understanding. As much access as Toshiro had to any and all kinds of records, he didn't have the same access Yamamoto did.

"I'm going to give you access to a few more files," Yamamoto stated. "Solve the case then go and rest up will you all?"

"Yes Sir," Byakuya replied easily.

Yamamoto nodded and left the room, sending a heated glance at the two detectives before him. His look said all it needed to; Keep your noses out of where they don't belong. The two nodded simply and averted their eyes from him. The room remained silent for a time save for Toshiro's fingers tapping at the keyboard of his laptop, his eyes glowing brighter as he began to gain access to files he'd never expected to see.

_When had Yamamoto decided to give him access to this stuff?_

The files delved into undercover operations with an Underground Railroad for escaping slaves in the city. There were positions everywhere around the country and it was all very complicated to follow if you didn't know the rules. Addresses were given to a slave when they came into accidental contact with someone in the system. When they escaped they went for the closest one they could manage to find. One of the best positions was actually in town and was in a very well placed area.

The neighborhood was not as dangerous as it could have been but it was still a place to be wary of one's surroundings. The apartment complex housed only a few people but their rents and lease amounts weren't horridly high considering how well kept the nearly empty building was. The metal door in the alleyway was being watched by a camera – probably placed by one of the undercover agents – and was also well hidden in the slight gloom of the alleyway. The quality was great too considering the lighting. _Hold on a second; he knew that face._

"What have we got?" Kenpachi asked.

"We've got Hichigo Kurosaki helping a girl from being attacked – not sure what kind it is at the moment – and getting attacked for it," Toshiro stated as he exchanged the footage of Kaien for the video he was watching presently.

"I guess all the practice on bullies has finally paid off," Yoruichi muttered wryly. Urahara sighed but nodded his agreement.

"And Nnoitra needs to kill his lover," Toshiro muttered as Shinji's skinny frame entered the building after he fast forwarded a bit. Nnoitra did look a tad pissed off at the realization of that but he didn't say anything in return. Toshiro ran through the footage until he'd caught up to the present. It didn't take very long considering how little movement really went on around there. He did however point out the camera in Shiro's hands.

"That could have taken the footage of Kaien," Rukia said.

"Found our tipsters," Starrk murmured. "Good. Who's the guy in all black?"

"Checking," Matsumoto chimed as her fingers danced over the keys of her laptop. "He's a former slave. He has multiple names but one thing that sticks out is a chip they found in him. It's the same as Ichigo's only it's a bit older."

"He may be Zangetsu," Renji said earning a few excited nods.

"A real lead," Urahara stated. "One that's alive too. Even better." He was smiling. It felt great to be ahead of the game for once.

"What is this for?" Byakuya asked, his curiosity peaking as he watched the footage of Shiro and Zangetsu as it danced over the screen.

"Undercover agents placed in the Underground Railroad," Toshiro explained. "As far as I can tell, we're keeping an eye on the movements of runaways and trying to find them safe places. Think witness protection for slaves only."

"Sounds good to me but what about chips?" Ikkaku asked. "Those have to be a problem."

"As far as I can tell, they get them out of the body as fast as possible and as carefully as possible. The chips are usually disposed of right then and there but some of the chips have ended up here in our evidence lockers."

"Can we get access to them?"

Toshiro smiled. "I already do. Most are old but they're all in better shape than the one we got from Ichigo."

"That's good," Yoruichi smiled. "What about this Zangetsu guy though? What's his business? He doesn't really follow the pattern I see on this map."

"He's more private," Toshiro stated. "He seems to get slaves, get the chip, destroy the chip, and then get them passports or something like that. He gets documents."

"Documents? That means he has a contact somewhere," Rukia said.

"Shinji is probably his way of watching the FBI," Nnoitra said. "Shin's more likely to only tell him weather or not we're onto him considering he probably has a problem with authority figures like the government."

"Who'd blame him though? It's not like we can do much on abused slaves since hardly any of them have any real say in the matter," Halibel acknowledged.

The group nodded, slightly abashed at her accurate jab. The government was not exactly very useful in these things. Ichigo was a prime example of that. It had taken eight years to find him and by then, he'd already been damaged beyond repair in some respects.

Renji chuckled lightheartedly though. They had a lead and it wasn't from a dead man this time. He was ready to kick some ass.

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	16. Chapter 16

**I have the wonderful Anacoana to thank for giving me a muse to write a story - apparently I can't type the simplest thoughts out. I've been working this for a while but I'm no where near done - too many ideas in my head - but since she was kind enough to let me use her idea for Unwanted and Unexpected Gifts for my own fanfic for Bleach, I want to see how it goes.**

**New chap.**

* * *

Zangetsu was being paranoid again. Shiro just knew the man was being paranoid. The albino youth had continued getting footage of the rings, with Hiyori as his only back up, for the past few weeks. From a distance he'd watched Zangetsu make them enter through the back doors of the apartment complex and then had them both come in through the roof entrance. Even Shinji was getting annoyed with it.

"Are you feeling better about talking to your friend Shuuhei yet?" Shinji asked. Shiro sighed and shook his head.

"No. Hell, he's been looking at me funny for a while too. I thought my act was pretty good though – then again, Momo isn't exactly that bright."

"Former sex slaves usually don't see things the way fighters would. Sure they fear the world around them but they have a more focused fear; to masters and mistresses. Fighters just fear everyone," Shinji explained. Shiro clenched a fist and gritted his teeth. "Sorry. I wasn't being aware of things."

"Forget it," Shiro muttered darkly.

"Kind of can't considering everything."

"Enough the two of you!" Zangetsu roared. "Look out the damned window will you?"

Shiro sighed and did as he was commanded. Glancing out the window his gold eyes swept over the dark streets. His sneaking out of the house was beginning to work on his nerves but he wasn't going to bring his father into this any more than he already was. As much of a thrill as it was to be doing what he was, he was beginning to wonder if there was another way to get to Zangetsu's place. Sure, he could always tell his father that he was staying at a friend's but then Shuuhei and the others would be called. He didn't need them bitching at him when he got to school – the apparent sleep deprivation was enough already.

"What am I looking for?" he sighed finally. Zangetsu began cursing softly as he jabbed his finger at the alley across the street. Shiro squinted at it still seeing nothing…Except for the sudden movement of what looked like blue and silver. He leaned forward a bit more, Shinji joining him at the window.

As they watched, they saw a man with long silver hair exit the alleyway looking slightly shell-shocked. He led a man who was cursing vehemently in a different language, kicking and struggling to get away. The silver haired man had a firm grip despite his frail looking frame. He sat the guy down on the curb and began talking to him, asking questions possibly. The man he was speaking to had his hands behind his back and looked spitting mad as he cursed at the silver haired man.

"What language is that?" Shiro asked.

"My guess would be Spanish," Shinji murmured.

Zangetsu watched from his own separate window, a knife in his hands as if it were a comforting blanket for a little kid. Shiro's gold-black eyes strayed back to the two men, his hand inching the window open a bit further. The man on the curb began to curse even louder and the silver haired man looked like he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere. He called toward the alleyway and was soon accompanied by another person who yanked the handcuffed man from his seat and shoved him against the brick wall.

"And the blue haired guy is Grimmjow," Shinji chimed softly. "Nnoitra works with him on the case…but if he's here…" He didn't finish. He had glanced over to Shiro to find him with wide eyes, his body beginning to shake. "Shiro? Something wrong?"

Zangetsu glanced over to the youth to find the same petrified look on his face. He remembered back to after his students' first fights. One had stuck in his head much more clearly though and he couldn't help but realize, yet again, how similar the twin boys looked.

"Hey Shiro," Shinji hissed jarring Shiro from his frozen state. "What's wrong with you?"

"I-I've seen that guy before," Shiro explained. "He wasn't exactly happy at the time."

Shinji made an 'o' with his mouth and nodded. He could understand that since he too had seen Grimmjow around family – Nnoitra didn't want to go to the party but had been dragged out of friendship through Shinji who had wanted to go – a few years ago.

"Alright you little fucker!" they heard Grimmjow snarl as he pinned the cuffed man to the wall with one hand. "Talk!"

The man spouted off in Spanish which earned him a sudden spin around to be slammed into the hood of a car. Shinji winced. Grimmjow shouted at him in Spanish and waited for the man to reply. When the reply didn't come fast enough, he lifted the man's head back by the hair and smacked against the hood.

"I thought police aren't supposed to be brutal," Zangetsu sneered.

"Grimmjow does undercover stuff in cartels. He's not very gentile," Shinji explained softly. "It's not surprising he and Kenpachi are friends."

Grimmjow was shouting again, the silver haired man simply watching. As Grimmjow was about to spin the man around again, he began to babble in Spanish. He spoke quickly, the fear evident. Grimmjow smirked at him and relayed his speech in English to his silver haired companion. Shiro couldn't hear them but he had a feeling both had gotten what they wanted by the looks of relief and swelling pride on their faces. Grimmjow led the cuffed man to a car nearby and stuffed him in the back seat. When he returned to his companion, he sighed and spoke softly. Shiro strained to hear.

"Alright, we know what we need to and now I can get in like the smooth operator Pantera is," Grimmjow smirked. "Look Ukitake, you didn't have to come on this. I could have brought someone else."

Ukitake, the silver haired man, shook his head. "No, Grimmjow. It's fine. It's good for me to out of that stakeout apartment. Molding walls isn't good for my cough either you know?"

"Right," Grimmjow nodded. "I'm gonna get into character and get in as soon as I can." He began to turn away when he paused and turned back. "Is it alright if I bring along someone? I'm fairly sure can handle himself."

"Uh…I guess so," Ukitake stated, his head cocked. "Who do you have in mind?"

"That's a surprise," Grimmjow smiled.

"I hate surprises," Shinji muttered. "His are always terrifying too." He shuddered as he remembered the party a few years ago when Grimmjow managed to send his cousins packing with a well aimed shot with a bow and arrow at their glasses of alcohol. The words _Oops, my hand slipped_ had never been something Shinji had expected the man to say in his life. He wasn't one who would let his grip on a live weapon fail.

"How bad can he be considering he's a Fed?" Zangetsu asked.

"His family is somewhat well known for their money," Shinji explained. "According to Nnoitra, Grimmjow had a personal slave who committed suicide after one of his cousins raped her." Shinji bit his lip. "It seems Grimmjow's father was also the one who 'spoke' to the cousin."

"Lovely," Shiro muttered as the men parted from each other. "I have to get home. Something tells me things are getting ridiculous tonight."

"Move quickly then," Zangetsu murmured. "We have work to do tomorrow."

Shiro nodded his understanding. He knew what they were going to be doing. He just hoped none of his friends would find out about it.

* * *

Grimmjow shrugged out of his leather jacket slowly and stiffly. He was still surprised how many angles there were to the case he'd tried quit hard to get off of. He knew Yamamoto had put him on the case because he knew he'd be able to deal with it better than most agents – he probably wasn't about to get replaced either. He wasn't too surprised that there was an Underground Railroad for the slaves who managed to escape the rings or abusive owners. He wasn't too unhappy that he could still manage to keep a toe in the case without getting himself drenched in it.

"Ichigo? I'm back," he called as he ruffled his hair that lay flat like a bedraggled mop on his head.

"Hey Grimmjow," Ichigo called from the kitchen. His arms were laden down with cleaned dishes. His brown eyes glowed with that determined fire Grimmjow really liked to see in him even if it was slightly tamed now. Ichigo placed the dishes onto the counter and tapped over to Grimmjow to take his coat.

"Thanks Ichigo," Grimmjow smiled.

"No problem," Ichigo replied smoothly as he hung the jacket up. "Are we going out again tonight or did Yamamoto say we didn't have to?"

"Yeah, we're going out again," Grimmjow sighed as he combed his fingers through his hair. As thankful as he was that he was in the effort of the Underground Railroad – all thanks to Yamamoto of course – he was going to have to talk to his new team. He couldn't afford to be sleep deprived now that he was dealing with cartels as Pantera again to be able to be close to the apartment that Ukitake and his group had found to be a main drag for escapees.

Apparently, the cartels wanted to get the slaves that were showing up there at points even if it meant pretending they were safe to be near. Of course, they had no idea who was taking the slaves in and therefore could only try to grab the slaves in the alleyway that led to the building.

"Alright," Ichigo said softly. "I'll finish dinner then."

Grimmjow sighed softly as Ichigo padded away. He liked Ichigo's cooking well enough – he'd nearly lost his mind at the first taste – but he didn't really like the feeling that Ichigo was pushing himself a bit too hard. However, he had learned better than to get in the middle of it. Ichigo was violent in some ways when it came to keeping his feelings hidden at the moment. Grimmjow couldn't really blame him though considering that they were staking out an apartment that had been known for his brother entering it lately.

"Good grief Ichi, you don't have to push yourself so much you know?"

"I know. I just want to have some energy for this stuff tonight."

"Hm? If you're uncomfortable about this you don't have to come with me," Grimmjow said calmly. Ichigo held his movements and glanced at Grimmjow slowly. He smiled a bit and nodded his gratitude.

"Thanks but Yamamoto-sama had a point about it. If Zangetsu really is living there, I'm really the only one he may trust. Not to mention…Shiro-oniisan is there too from time to time."

Grimmjow smirked like a Cheshire cat, his laughter barely staying behind his teeth. As more and more days passed more of Ichigo's past was beginning to get filled in slowly. Shiro was probably the only person Ichigo didn't stop talking about now-a-days. He would talk about his little sisters every so often, his father running a close third to the girls, but Shiro was the big cheese to the orange haired youth.

"You're so transparent," Grimmjow chuckled.

Ichigo sent him a glare that would have been more heated if he hadn't already heard the same thing from the teal haired man before. He knew very well that Grimmjow could read him like a book but that didn't make it any easier.

"So what if I am!"

"You're so cute when you're flustered," Grimmjow laughed. Ichigo blushed profusely at his words and turned his head away. "Relax Ichi. I'm too hungry to continue this."

Ichigo glanced at him through his peripheral vision trying to judge how true the man's words were. He had a feeling Grimmjow was being truthful about his hunger but he was sure that Grimmjow was going to continue the conversation sooner or later. He sighed and continued on with his work. He was interrupted soon by the phone ringing.

"You cook," Grimmjow ordered gently as he moved for the phone. "Hello? Oh, hey Kenpachi, what's-?"

"Why'd you quit?" Kenpachi interrupted. Grimmjow felt his eye twitch.

"Why do you think? It's gotten too close to home this time and I'm trying to keep it at as much of a distance as possible."

"So in other words, you're trying to keep something at arm's length when part of it lives in your house?"

"Yeah, I guess," Grimmjow chuckled. "Look, Ichi's making me dinner. I have to cut this short Kenpachi."

"He cooks?"

"You sound surprised Ken."

"You're not helping your case here. By the way, I know you may not want to be part of this all but we've gotten some more information on it. Starrk wants to keep you in on it considering Ichigo's going to probably want to know what's going on."

Grimmjow pressed the speaker button before turning to face Ichigo. "Hey! You want to be in the loop of the case?"

"No thanks!" Ichigo said, waving his hand back and forth in front of his face like he'd smelled something bad. "I'm trying to put that crap behind me!"

"You've heard the kid Kenpachi," Grimmjow laughed. "I'm with him on it too by the way. There's no interest left in us on this case. You can stop forcing yourself to keep me in the loop on it alright?"

"Whatever," Kenpachi murmured. "Don't expect Starrk to drop it though. Nel will probably call you too. Hell I won't be surprised if all of them call you too."

"Ask them not call will you?"

"I'll see what I can do. You two stay out of trouble alright?"

"Sure thing Ken. See you at some point."

"Bye Grimmjow." The phone clicked off and Grimmjow pressed the speaker button again to avoid listening to the beeping noise his phone would produce.

"Dinner's ready," Ichigo murmured. Grimmjow chuckled; the kid had started on dinner earlier huh? Fine, Grimmjow was fine with that. "Pasta."

"Yum. Let's eat and get out of here. I have to talk to Yamamoto soon. We have a case to finish for those slugs."

Ichigo nodded with an evil smirk. Grimmjow really liked that look on his face. It was like having a twin for himself.

* * *

**Please review. I live for reviews. The stories do too - literally.**


	17. Author's Note

Alright, aparently I've confused at least one person with the story. Let's see if I can explain what was confused.

**Setting:** Present kind of in the D.C. area but since I've never been there, I can't say scpeficly that everything is correct - for instance, the bullpen is based off the _Numb3rs_ bullpens.

**Politics:** The 'power' being fought is yes indeed illegal buisness. Grimm's family - the ones that are evil - are like the mob bosses/mob members that can't be touched because they're too slick to get caught...Of course, now that Grimm's an FBI agent, they have to be even more careful since he and his part of the family are more willing to rat out on them than anyone else is. Grimmjow's family also does not ever expect him - as his father's son - to get into the family business since he was raised to avoid it. However, some of them - admitted they haven't actually seen him very often or for a very long time - know him as Pantera and Pantera has a slightly different look from his 'usual' look. Where Grimmjow is messy, Pantera is suave. Grimmjow's hair is in spikes while Pantera's may be combed back and slicked down.

Uh...sorry if the team seems to race over obvious details that could lead them somewhere much faster but I personally felt that the glaringly obvious - what with Ichigo's amnesia and Grimmjow's fear of a complete phsycotic breakdown - would have been avoided for as long as possible. That, and Ichigo was slightly vague to begin with whenever he spoke of his family. He - as the confused boy he is - is certain that since he watched his mother die, but was unable to stop it, will be hated by his father. It took him so long to even remeber that he had a brother and sisters until small events - like Shuuhei bringing Shiro to the building - simply slammed things into his face. Also, Grimmjow - as OOC as he is in this story - is protective of Ichigo's fragile mind hence why he was so against giving the files over to Ichigo let alone telling him that there are obvious leads.

That, and personally, I hadn't really noticed I'd left such glaringly obvious bits of information...I really was trying to forshadow and apparently I must work on it. Oh well. I love constructive crituqes when I get them. Sorry if there has been confusion.


	18. Chapter 17

**Wow...haven't updated in forever. Not sure about how this went...**

* * *

"Grimmjow's working his cartels again?" Renji asked in amazement. "How's Ichigo taking it?" He watched his petite wife shrug.

"I have no clue!" she growled. "Neither one of them is talking to us since, apparently, Grimmjow is going undercover again!"

"Who's going undercover?" Rangiku asked softly as she entered the room.

She hadn't meant to interrupt the couple's conversation but her laptop was still in the war room and she had only barely remembered she'd need that at home if she was to get anything done. She still had to go through half of the tapes that Ukitake and his group had sent over. It had taken quite a lot of teeth pulling to get at least Ukitake's name.

"Grimmjow," Renji stated. Rangiku stopped dead to stare in horror at the two.

"I thought he hated going undercover," she breathed. Renji shrugged.

"Undercover stuff is pretty hard to do," he replied in understanding. "I've seen what it does to people who do it too often or for too long. It's worse when they do both; they forget their family at home – if they have one – and sometimes confuse who their alias is." He shook his head. "Grimmjow has at least kept himself with only one alias and he spaces his time undercover out from one another."

"Yeah but…" Rangiku murmured as she sank into a seat and scrubbed her face.

"He doesn't like doing it but he knows it has to be done by someone," Rukia sighed. "It's his own fault for letting himself work his ass off on getting himself into the whole thing, soon making himself the one that people feared and yet trusted more than anything."

"I thought it was a little odd he said he was in hiding every time he came back from an undercover job," Rangiku murmured.

"That's because he usually is in hiding," Rukia stated, her index finger pointed out like she was lecturing. "That's why he doesn't do as much field work as he would probably like to."

"My ears are burning!" Grimmjow's gruff voice chided from the doorway. Renji and Rukia spun to face the taller man. "Hey all!"

"Hey," Renji whispered. "You look…Bedraggled."

"Considering I just dragged a little cartel dog in," Grimmjow groaned. "What a pain in the ass! By the way, I'm going to go into the whole act in a few days so try ignoring me unless you guys have been told to bring Pantera in." He waved his hand as if he were brushing it all off like something that happened all the time.

"How's Ichigo taking all this?" Rukia asked. Rangiku nodded.

"He's fine," Grimmjow said with a chuckle. "Think about it, Pantera's pretty powerful right?" They all nodded. "It makes sense for him to have a personal slave right?" They nodded again, slowly this time. "He's going with me."

"What?" Renji gasped as he shot from his seat. His face was drained of color and sweat ran down his temples. _I'm not hearing this…am I?_

"I'm taking Ichigo with me," Grimmjow restated calmly, his eyes closed.

"Renji!" Rukia screeched but was too late. The redhead had leapt at Grimmjow, his hands gripping the man's collar. Rangiku's hand covered her mouth, her blue eyes wide. She'd forgotten how fast Renji was; he hadn't been sent in to do any undercover work in underground fight clubs lately due to the fear that an old injury would hinder him – and Rukia was adamant that he not do such cases ever again. She wasn't losing her husband to that bullshit yet.

"You son of a bitch!" Renji snarled as he slammed Grimmjow against the door. The metal was thankfully strong and the glass only trembled a little when Grimmjow's body came into contact with its hold. "We pulled him out of a hell hole and you're just going to throw him back into one?"

Rukia and Rangiku didn't even see Grimmjow move. The first thing they saw was Renji holding him against the metal doorjamb, face screwed up with a look of rage. In the distance they saw a shocked Urahara and Yoruichi begin to rush over. Rangiku saw Toshiro sitting at his computer, his aqua eyes wide with shock and fear, Ulquiorra behind him, his green eyes dull as usual but flashing with concern. The second thing they saw was Renji on his back, Grimmjow pinning him to the floor with his foot.

"Fuck off Abarai," he snarled. "Yamamoto's fine with it by the way so there really is nothing you can do."

"Agent Jaggerjaques!" Urahara yelled. "Get off him now!"

"Fine," Grimmjow said as he shoved Renji into the floor as he moved away. "I was just leaving anyway. Ichigo? Did you find that file?"

"Yep!" A hand holding a file shot up from within the bullpen. Ichigo's head popped up after it, a huge smile on his face. "Can we go _now_ Grimmjow? We have a meeting to get to right?" He was already moving towards the elevators, the file in hand and a smile on his face.

"Yes indeed we do have a meeting to get to," Grimmjow stated, his eyes dark as he sauntered after the bouncing orange head. "See you all later!" They were gone a few seconds later as they used the elevators, Ichigo bouncing on his toes and Grimmjow smiling at him like an amused brother. Renji was helped up by Yoruichi.

"The hell is going on?" Yoruichi asked. "Any idea?"

"None," Renji snarled. "All I know is that the next time I see that fucking asshole, I'm killing him with my bare hands!" The group waited, Toshiro and Ulquiorra edging up to them slowly, as Renji calmed his breathing. The red head looked at the detectives questioningly. "Why are you two back here anyway?"

"We felt like we had to call Isshin," Urahara explained. "About Ichigo."

That was all the explanation Renji needed to shut up.

"By the way," Yoruichi chuckled darkly. "If you want help kicking Grimmjow's ass, tell me. I'll gladly help out."

Renji thanked her with a smile.

* * *

Ukitake and Kyōraku sat in relative silence as they watched Nanao, Ashido, Baishin, Kiyone, and Sentarō glare at the game board in front of them. Nanao, Ashido, and Baishin were far more interested in watching the two junior agents glare at each other all because neither one wished to lose the game of chess to the other. Kiyone and Sentarō were always competing with each other over some of the most trivial things. Ukitake didn't have enough energy to get them to stop due to his illness that usually made him have to stay at home. Kyōraku was just too lazy to be bothered. Besides, it was always better to let them battle it out rather than get in the middle of it; all of them had learned that the hard way.

Baishin sighed and returned to his paperwork in a bored manner. Nanao followed his example with her own things. Ashido was busy watching, his gaze calculating. He was ahead on his paperwork and was far more interested in watching the junior agents fight each other at chess. He could already tell who would be more likely to win but as far as he could see, the game would end in a draw.

The door to their private offices opened and Ashido glanced over to see Grimmjow enter with Ichigo in tow. Grimmjow looked poised to kill while Ichigo seemed to be in a rather chipper mood. He watched as Ichigo's mood affected Grimmjow's own, dulling it down to quiet annoyance rather than a full blown rage. There was nothing wrong with what he was witnessing in his mind; he'd seen slaves have positive effects on owners before even though it was rare. It was far more normal for owners to influence their slaves but he had seen many odd things while working the Underground Railroad systems of multiple cities.

"How'd Yamamoto take your news?" Baishin asked, not looking away from his work. Ichigo plopped down in a chair next to Ashido and began to stare at the game board intently. Ashido smiled as he chuckled softly. He whispered in Ichigo's ear what the game was, the names of the pieces, and the rules of the game in what would be called record timing.

"He's just glad that I got into the gangs again," Grimmjow said as he lifted a file from Ichigo's hands and passed it to Ukitake. The silver haired man opened it and sighed. "That's all I've got on what I did in my other group. All I could get with such little time I had."

"You shouldn't have made him mad Grimm," Ichigo chuckled in a scolding way.

"Grimm pissed someone off? Who?" Ashido asked as he watched Kiyone make a move.

"Renji," Grimmjow muttered. "He's unhappy I'm going back to undercover stuff and that I'm taking Ichigo in with me since it only makes sense Pantera would have a personal slave."

"Makes sense," Nanao said matter-of-factly as she pushed her glasses back into place. "After all the trouble you went through to get Ichigo out of one hellhole and you're dragging him into another?"

"You sound like him even," Grimmjow sneered. "It's not my fault really. Yamamoto wanted them to at least know what I was up to and who I was dragging in with me."

"Orders are a bitch aren't they?" Baishin asked with a laugh. Grimmjow simply laughed and nodded in agreement. Orders did suck like nobody's business.

"I hope he didn't rough you up too much," Ashido stated as he watched Sentarō react to Kiyone's move. It wasn't a bad move but it wasn't exactly the best one he could have made. Oh well, both had some good moves but neither would win the way they were presently. Both had too many emotions running wild and they weren't really focusing.

"What makes you say he roughed me up?"

"Your collar is ruffled like someone grabbed it and shoved you against a wall. There is a trail of dust on your back from what could only be a metal doorjamb. My guess is that Renji grabbed your collar and slammed you against a doorjamb, possibly the one for the War Room." Ashido smiled at him.

"You're a bit too attentive Ashido," Grimmjow muttered. "It's expected though right? What with our jobs and all?"

"Yes, it is expected." Ashido looked at Ukitake. "What have we got?"

"Enough to possibly win some trust in the system," Ukitake stated. "Grimmjow, as Pantera, do you think you can get the gangs to back off of that area for at least a week?"

Grimmjow nodded. "I might be able to do that. It won't be easy to do but I think I can. That guy we talked to a few days ago has probably already spread the word that Pantera's back on the streets. That alone should get people worried and ready to be visited."

"So can we move yet or not?" Baishin asked his tone bored and slightly annoyed.

"I want Grimmjow to get the gangs out first," Ukitake stated. "Ashido, I need you and Nanao to work on getting the Underground Railroad to move the escaped slaves to get the hell out of the area and moved to a safe location."

Ashido and Nanao nodded in understanding as they began to move with ease and efficiency. Grimmjow sighed and turned to leave. He took a glance at the board and watched as Kiyone made another move. She smiled and declared 'Check' as she leaned back in victory. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and moved the black knight of Sentarō's.

"Checkmate," he said. "Come one Ichigo."

"Coming," Ichigo declared as he leapt up from his seat and followed Grimmjow. The team members all stopped to look at the board.

"No wonder his strategies work 90% on the time," Nanao murmured admiringly.

"What about the other ten?" Ashido asked. "Why don't they work?"

"The other ten is when Grimmjow's conscience causes him to rethink the strategy," Kyōraku sighed. "That ten percent is usually the one that gets him into trouble usually."

"How much trouble are we talking about here?" Ashido asked his voice strained with worry that wasn't only for him alone. He'd had plenty of experience with how to act funerals because his friends had been killed in the line of duty.

"The last time that ten percent kicked in, Grimmjow was nearly killed." Ukitake glanced back at the now closed file. "He also pulled a 'Gibbs' on everyone."

"A what?" Ashido asked in confusion.

"A 'Gibbs,'" Baishin explained, "is when an agent pulls something like the character 'Gibbs' from NCIS. In the end of the third season, Gibbs got caught in an explosion, wound up in a coma, and woke up to think the last fifteen years or so had not occurred and he was still in Dessert Storm. He also 'retired' after enough memories came back for him to solve the case…Not that the higher ups listened to him."

"Grimmjow nearly quit?"

"Yeah and he's still not completely sure as weather or not he should have stayed," Ukitake sighed. "I've watched him battle over it privately for the past few years. This case he was working on is the first one I've seen him put his all into willingly. I'm amazed he walked away from it so easily."

"But he's not out of it is he?" Kiyone murmured. "We're working another part of the same case right? It's the same case but now he can get at it from a different angle; one he knows how to work."

"Which makes him a dangerous person indeed," Nanao whispered to herself. "To the people we're after and to himself."

"Is he going to be a danger to us?" Ashido asked, not bothering to hide the sickening worry that coated his voice.

He gazed at Ukitake and Kyōraku with evident worry. He had plenty of reason to feel the way he did; he'd only been in this group for a few months since his last transfer and he wasn't exactly well known anywhere in the departments that he'd walked through. Hardly anyone knew him which he could blame on being something of a loner; he worked and ate and slept. Other than looking over his shoulder and watching his teammates' back, that was all he did in his spare time. It was just how he was and he felt it was too late to change that.

"Only if we get in his way," Kyōraku stated calmly. "Trust me though; you'll know when to stay clear of him."

"May I ask how we'll know?"

"Trust me," Kyōraku said. "You'll know."

* * *

**Please review**


	19. Chapter 18

**Not sure about how this went...**

* * *

"Ichigo stand still," Grimmjow chuckled amused as Ichigo began pacing up and down the alleyway again.

It could be understood that he was nervous; it was his first ever live sting operation. He was going undercover with Grimmjow and…he had absolutely no training whatsoever. Oh Yamamoto had been the one to suggest it yes but it had been Ichigo's decision mainly. The youth understood that once he was in, he was in and he had to watch what he said at all times.

Undercover work may very well be the death of him if he didn't stop pacing.

"I can't think of how I'm supposed to act," Ichigo muttered. "My thoughts keep trailing to my family and the accident and the cages and then it repeats. It's like one of those stupid explanation movies in museums."

"You've been to a museum before?" Grimmjow asked surprised.

"Yeah…With my mom and big brother."

"What was the exhibit about?"

"It was dinosaurs…Shiro loved them back then. I took a wrong turn at one point and got somewhat lost in the exhibit," Ichigo smiled and began laughing. "You would have loved the look on Shiro's face when he finally found me."

"He's one of those brothers who will look you over even if you're obviously fine isn't he?" Ichigo nodded and snickered.

"Yeah, he was then."

"I'm sure he'll do it again if you tell him who you are," Grimmjow assured.

"Forgive me for not cheering. It's only been eight years. I have no idea what he's become now and I don't know anything but being a slave. How is that supposed to work?"

Grimmjow smiled at him and looped an arm over his shoulders. "Relax," he chided. "From what I hear, he's worried about you."

"What about the eight years apart and the different experiences – or lack of it in my case," Ichigo muttered.

"He'll get past it," Grimmjow assured him. "If he doesn't, I'll beat sense into him."

Ichigo smiled up at him brightly. Of course, the fire in his brown eyes still glowed as brightly as ever. Grimmjow had forgotten how much those eyes pulled him in and dared him to do something stupid and dangerous. It was like wanting to fight like the idiot he'd been when he was younger – high school had sucked as a rich kid. He was so glad his family wasn't a pure bred mafia. No, it was just full of fucking idiots save for his tiny section.

"How did Zangetsu act?" he asked as his arm lifted from Ichigo's shoulders. He watched the boy tap his finger thoughtfully on his temple as he began to pace again, digging at the memory. Ichigo chewed his lip for a moment before answering.

"He was always calm – always told me to never show feeling to the Masters because then they'd have an advantage. He rarely talked but when he did, I listened. He was surprisingly strong too for his body type."

"He sounds like my father," Grimmjow shivered. Ichigo cocked his head to the side, wide confused. "What?"

"You never talk about family if it's not mine."

"My family…you'll meet my dad one day. None of the others. I'm not letting it happen."

"Why?"

"Let's just say, the last time I had a personal slave, one of my cousins took advantage of the fact that she technically couldn't do anything to him. Of course, my bit of the family lets our slaves have a voice of their own." He paused, licking his lips as he tried to find the right words. "I have reservations about having a personal slave alright?"

"Alright…Why'd you ask about Zan?"

"I think that you might want to try to channel him – at least, the tough, quiet side of him."

Ichigo nodded and sighed. "I think I can do that," he stated.

"Good," Grimmjow murmured as he glanced around the corner. "I think we have company. Pull that hood over your head. I don't need someone getting at you for your hair. Mine's enough of a pain in the ass when I'm trying to pull off a cartel boss."

Ichigo slid the hood of his jacket over his head, shoving stray bits of still long orange hair under it to ensure he wasn't completely noticeable. Grimmjow cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders impatiently before leaning against the wall to look like he didn't have a care in the world. He glanced to Ichigo and nodded. Ichigo nodded back and shrank into the shadows, glad he was wearing dark clothes from head to toe. Nothing better than an invisible slave right?

"Well, they said you had eye catching hair," a familiar voice called causing Ichigo to shiver and want to run away. He remembered that voice only because it was the one that always tormented him for stupid things that really meant nothing. The guy hadn't even bothered to think he was worth putting out of his misery.

"They also say you're someone who hates public places Shank," Grimmjow growled. "You're late by the way."

"They also said you were a stickler Pantera," Shank muttered bitterly. "Too bad you don't have anyone other than cartels to boss around huh?"

"I have plenty of people to boss around. I just don't have the patience for idiots."

"Right…so, you want in on the slave trades?" Shank asked carefully.

"No hesitation," Grimmjow snickered darkly. "At least you seem to be trying to make up for being late." He shoved himself up from the wall with a sigh. "I will happily say I would like to see some of the stock. I can always use good fighters. Never know what I'll run into. My best isn't going to stay in shape forever; someone might get a lucky shot in if you get my meaning. If you have good fighters, I'd love to see them in action."

"We have good fighters yes but I don't really know what you're looking for in them."

"High pain tolerance, obedience, and understanding that what I say is law."

"I have a few who can meet those expectations."

"Can they fight?"

"They _live_ to fight." Ichigo could almost hear the smirk in Shank's voice and his stomach knotted into a tight ball. He made himself remain still; he didn't want to give away his position. Surprise was a useful element to have. Zangetsu had said that himself.

"I'm sure they do," Grimmjow replied, his voice not holding any of its usual bitterness and disgust that it held when he spoke about slaves in 'tough' situations. "I want to see them in action. I pick better when I see what I may be getting in a fight."

"I can set something up," Shank suggested.

"Fine," Grimmjow stated. He pulled a card from his pocket and shoved it at Shank. "Call that number, my guy will tell me exactly what my schedule looks like."

"Schedule?" Shank asked. "Cartels have schedules?"

"Everyone has an agenda. Mine is only known by a few people. Makes things easier to manage that way."

"That why you disappear from time to time?"

"Maybe I just want a break from things," Grimmjow shrugged. "Or, I set things up with other places and other people. Even I'm not sure how far my reach is…yet."

"Sounds great," Shank sighed. "I'll set something up for you and call your guy. What's his name by chance?"

"No names," Grimmjow hissed. "I prefer my people be able to blend in if they need to. God forbid the ex finds me you know?"

Shank whistled and laughed. "I'll call soon."

"Fine. My guy will be waiting."

"Good to meet you Pantera."

"Whatever. I'll see you at work."

A few moments later, Grimmjow stalked over to Ichigo's hiding place and tapped his shoulder gently. Ichigo licked his lips and slid from the shadows slowly.

"Recognized him?"

"Yeah…One of the usual bullies," Ichigo muttered. "If he gives us a reason to beat him up, can I have him?"

Grimmjow snickered. "I'll speak to Ukitake but I think he'll be lenient."

"Hope so. The guy deserves to get a taste of his own medicine."

Grimmjow laughed and let out a sigh, combing his hair back with his fingers. He sighed through his nose as he lifted his phone from his pocket.

"Baishin," he stated. "Yeah. He'll call soon he said. Yep. Ichigo and I will lay low until you guys call us back." The phone clicked shut and Grimmjow muttered a soft curse. "Ready to stay the safe house?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ichigo murmured. "Who's babysitting our place?"

"Nnoitra managed to talk the team into letting him stay off the case for a little while since, apparently, his boyfriend is involved."

"Shinji Hirako?" Ichigo asked. Grimmjow nodded. "The really skinny blonde guy I've seen around a few times?" Another nod. "I'm sure there's a reason he bugged out when he saw me then."

"There is but I'm still tempted to hit him for it," Grimmjow seethed.

He hadn't known that Shinji had seen Ichigo around the building and had bugged out on seeing him. Sure, there had been pictures of Kaien Shiba around but what Ichigo didn't know was that his big brother was currently involved in the case as well. There had been a reason he'd told his new team to keep quiet about it and that was what they were doing so far. He was waiting for it to get to Ichigo's ears.

"Nnoitra's taking care of our place then?" Ichigo asked.

"Yeah," Grimmjow replied. "Let's go get dinner and get our crap sorted out at the safe house. I've been assured that our luggage was picked up from the house. I'm not sure how Ashido got in since he didn't asked for a key but then again…I don't think I want to know."

"Kenpachi and Baishin taught me how to pick locks," Ichigo stated softly. "I wouldn't be surprised if Ashido knows how to do that too."

"Don't remind me that we all had to learn a few too many tricks of the trades," Grimmjow moaned playfully as he gently punched Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo chuckled. "They taught you how to pick locks? When?"

"When they got the first chance to. Baishin decided it was going to be the first thing I knew when you and Yama moved us to a new team."

"Great," Grimmjow muttered. "Let's get going. I need sleep."

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**Please review**


	20. Chapter 19

**Alright...This chapter is basically a fast forward. Grimm and Ichi are in the ties of the underground fights but are still working their way in further. Shiro is still meeting with Zangetsu and Shinji despite the fact that Zangetsu is being paranoid about how one of Shinji's lover's coworkers is getting in undercover. Also, Shiro has been sneaking out lately.**

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_~Three weeks later~_

Shiro panted as he climbed through the window of his room. Zangetsu hadn't been home for whatever reason that night and Shinji had called him nearly too late to tell him to get his ass home that night. He had been so close to Zangetsu's place after filming a fight from a skylight without getting caught when Shinji had called and he'd booked it home once Shinji's panicked voice said to get home. He was waiting for Zangetsu to call him in a rage to ask where the hell he was but then he kept remembering that Zangetsu wasn't going to be at home according to Shinji.

_"Where is he then?" Shiro had asked._

_"He's dealing with something else. Hiyori is with him. Get home now."_

_"Huh? Why do I have to get home? I have a key to Zangetsu's place. I can get in and leave the camera."_

_"Camera? Shiro, don't tell me you went alone!"_

_"Sure I did! I got good stuff too! That's what we're trying to do right?"_

_"Shut up for a second and listen to me! Remember that guy we saw? Grimmjow?"_

_"Yeah. What about it? He was just roughing up some gangbanger right? No big deal."_

_"He's undercover in the cartels apparently. The news finally made it to my ears. He's doing something with the gangs in the area. It's dangerous to be there at the moment so get your ass home and don't do anything until I call you again okay?"_

_"Tch! Fine."_

Shiro was beginning to be thankful that he'd listened to Shinji. On his way out of the neighbor hood he'd seen three guys arguing in an alleyway. The shortest of the three was leading the argument. He wasn't sure what they were arguing about but the name Pantera continued to come up over and over. When the three left, Shiro had found himself pelting down the street as fast as he could, his hands gripping the camera like a lifeline. Now that he was home, he was beginning to feel a bit more at ease.

Until someone's hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him across the room that is. He slammed into the wall and groaned as he made contact with the wood flooring. The camera skidded across the floor to the dresser as he glanced up at his attacker.

"The fuck? Dad?" he grunted as he tried to get up.

"Where the hell have you been?" Isshin screamed making Shiro flinch as waves of purified fear and agitation rushed over him.

He hadn't heard that voice in years since the first time he'd snuck out back in Japan. All he'd done was go to the crime scene he knew as the place of his mother's death only to find it already cleaned and the tape taken down. When he'd gotten home, he'd entered to find Isshin screaming at Urahara and Yoruichi. The two detectives were trying to calm him down; their voices only making Isshin's get louder as they tried to overpower it with their own. The girls sat huddled on the steps in front of the door, Yuzu sobbing into Karin's chest as they listened.

Karin had spotted him first, yelling his name in relief. The next thing Shiro knew, Isshin was kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders and shaking him. Isshin asked where he'd been and if Shiro knew how worried they'd all been about him. He'd responded the only way he could have; he spoke the truth and broke down in tears because he was scared of Dad. Isshin had wrapped his arms around his body and hugged him close, relief nearly tangible as he realized his son was alright.

That was the reason Shiro tried to avoid sneaking out and getting caught at it; he didn't want his father to sound like that again.

"You have no damned idea how luck you are that the twins are at a friends place!" Isshin ranted on. "I was hoping you were at Shuuhei's or Tatsuki's but hen I called to find you weren't I very nearly called the damned army to find you. Now I find you sneaking in and out of your room? God damn it Shiro where were you?"

"Out," Shiro managed. He couldn't tell his father what he'd been doing could he? No, Zangetsu had asked – demanded – that he keep silent about it.

Isshin stared at his remaining son in disbelief. 'Out' was all Shiro had to say? That was all he had to say after being caught sneaking into the house through his god damned window, panting like he'd been running from hell itself? That was all he could manage? Isshin's eyes glanced over to the camera that had skidded from Shiro's hands after he'd landed. He moved for it, watching Shiro out of his peripheral as he did.

Shiro wasn't sure what his father was doing until the man was half bent and reaching for the camera. His eyes widened and his body moved automatically. He cleared the five feet in a flash, grabbed the camera pulling it to his chest in a second, and threw himself against the door of his room just as quickly. His eyes were wider than Isshin's but his weren't marred by confusion and anger; his were flooded with terror.

"Shiro," Isshin ground out. "Give me the camera."

"No."

"Shiro, give me the camera, _now_."

"No!"

"God damn it Shiro! Give it to me!"

"NO!" Shiro yelled as loudly as he dared.

Isshin stared at him in horror and surprise. He wanted to rip the camera from his son's hands to know what was on it that made Shiro move that fast and protect it like it was Ichigo incarnate. The thought made Isshin shiver and remember the call he'd received only an hour or so ago from Urahara.

He'd already called the girls and he had a feeling they wouldn't be sleeping at all that night. He'd gone up to Shiro's room to tell him only to find the room empty. Panic had engulfed him as his thoughts began to think all kinds of absurd things then and he had started calling people in search.

He had been about to call the police – or Shuuhei again if truly necessary – and search the neighborhood when he'd seen a figure pelting down the street towards the house. He'd recognized it easily as soon as it flashed white under a streetlight and then bounded up the tree in front of Shiro's window. Rage had seethed through him as he'd mounted the stairs, taking them two at a time, and waited in the room for his son to make it to the window.

"Give. Me. The. Camera," he snarled as he pronounced each word separately.

"No!" Shiro yelled as he shook his head wildly. "Please god don't ask me to give it to you Dad! You have no reason to be involved in it!"

"Involved? Involved in what Shiro?"

Shiro's eyes blinked wide and he sank to the ground. Had he really just said that?

"Shiro! What are you involved in?" Isshin yelled, panic tangible in his voice as he knelt before his son.

"Nothing! It's nothing!"

"It can't be 'nothing' if you're acting like this! What are you involved in?"

"I'm telling you it's nothing!"

"It can't be nothing Shiro! What are you not telling me?"

"It's nothing Dad!" Shiro yelled his eyes screwed shut as he refused to look his father in the eyes. He was sure he'd lose his nerve if he made eye contact.

"Shiro-!" Isshin began only to be cut off by Shiro's phone ringing. Shiro moved quickly. He stood as he ripped the device from his pocket and shoved his way out of his room, never dropping the camera as he did so. He rushed downstairs as he answered with a blind and emotion filled hello, his father following him in silence.

"Shiro?" Shuuhei's voice chimed on the other end. "You sound horrible man. What's up? Another fight?"

"Oh if only it were," Shiro muttered as he moved into the living room, deftly avoiding his father with the furniture. He couldn't help but fear the deadly glare that Isshin was sending him as he moved agilely over the room's expanse, slowly making his way to the back door.

"What do you mean Shiro?"

"Nothing Shuu. Why're you calling me?" Shiro replied loudly so his father would hear who he was speaking to. That only slowed Isshin a bit but that bit was enough for Shiro to blast down the hallway, his father yelling after him to come back.

"My dad told me to call. Said he got huge news and it kinda pertains to you."

"Kinda you say," Shiro huffed as he dodged into the kitchen and diverted his escape back to the front door. It would be too much of a pain to jump over the fence the way he was presently. Screw the gangs; he was going to Zangetsu's place. "What do you mean?"

"Shiro!" Isshin roared.

"Holy shit was that your dad?" Shuuhei asked.

"Talk quicker Shuuhei!" Shiro yelled as he threw the front door open and slammed it shut behind himself. "What news did your dad get that pertains to me?"

"Shiro…I think I should call back."

"Fuck calling me back," Shiro huffed as he edged down the walk slowly, his body tensed so he could run away if his father came through the door; which he knew he would. "As soon as I hang up, I'm ditching my phone."

"Whoa Shiro! Calm down for a second will you? This is way too important!"

"Then spit it out!" The front door slammed on its hinges then, and Shiro bolted down the walk to the gate. He was nearly ready to ditch the phone then and there but he knew that he'd have to tell Shinji to not call it. When Shuuhei didn't react quickly enough, Shiro lifted the phone from his ear to hang up and really run.

"Your brother's alive!" Shuuhei's voice bellowed a hint of desperation sounding in the back of it. Shiro stopped earning himself a well timed tackle from his father. "Shiro? Are you still there? You know that kid we saw at my dad's work? That's him! He's the real deal! Shiro? Shiro answer me!"

Shiro couldn't due to his father pinning him to the ground, arms pinned to his back by one strong hand. _Damn it_, he thought. _Where the hell did this strength come from? Damn it Shuuhei, what the hell? Saying shit like that?_

"Shuuhei," Isshin huffed after picking the phone up. "I'm so sorry. He's going to have to call you back." The phone clicked shut and Shiro began to struggle to get free. Isshin pocketed the phone with ease and picked up the camera as well as he pulled his son to his feet. "I'm sure it's needless to say you're grounded again."

_Fuck my life._

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**Please review even though this is badly written.**


	21. Chapter 20

**Heehee, hoho! Upcoming plot twist! Stay tuned!**

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"Renji," Ashido murmured with a drawl. "What brings you to my house?"

"Nothing much," the red headed man stated, tattooed brows furrowed deeply.

Ashido tried to not smirk at him. He knew how well rumors spread in the building and it was a little difficult to hide the fact that Grimmjow, as Pantera, had gotten into a very nice placement in the underground with his wave making slave whose face no one had seen yet. He could see that Renji had been keeping as many tabs on the situation as possible – he guessed that everyone on that side of the investigation was doing it, even Kuchiki – and was about as pleased with it as Grimmjow's leaving to go undercover with Ichigo by his side.

"Right," Ashido muttered. "You hate me and I know this because you're still giving me shit for things I did years ago when you and Rukia weren't even in each others' social spheres. It's not really my fault she was assigned to play my wife slash lover on a case Renji. Sorry she enjoyed it." He sneered at Renji who looked like he wanted to cross the threshold and strangle him. He had better sense than that though.

"I'd tell you to fuck off but then you might do it," Renji snarled back. He didn't like Ashido for being a bit suave in certain things but he had to admit that even the whole thing of Ashido saying sorry for Rukia enjoying the escapades was a bit pretentious. They never did anything; according to Rukia they hadn't.

"Ho hum," Ashido hummed gently. "Why are you here again?"

"Grimmjow," Renji stated. "Ichigo too. No skimping on details."

Ashido's cool face disappeared into the controlled face of someone before the press. "No. Comment. What so ever."

"I'm not the press," Renji snarled.

"You may as well be," Ashido replied easily. "You're not on my team which makes you an outsider. Whatever Ukitake decides to tell you is what you get."

"Well, he's not really telling us all that much," Renji shot back, his emotions getting the better of him. "That kid's been through enough and you all know it too. He shouldn't be involved just because he has more experience than you all in this shit."

"It was nice to know that you care and all but I do have a job to do right now. Baishin isn't going to babysit Kiyone and Sentarō all day and Nanao has been pissed off by them one too many times this week." He gave a dismissive shrug before wandering off; at least trying to wander off. Renji's hand on his shoulder was pretty noticeable though and he knew pretty well how hard Renji's fists were.

"It's either you talk to me or Rukia will show up and beat the crap out of you," Renji said with an odd ease that made Ashido's skin crawl. He wasn't always in the habit of being an ass but with Renji it was far too much fun. When the Rukia card was pulled though he wasn't even sure why he found it entertaining.

"Would you mind unhanding me?" Ashido asked politely.

It was always best to be polite in this kind of situation. He'd seen Ichigo pull this crap before when someone tried to manhandle him a bit on his first night back in the fray. One of the Masters had thought that since Ichigo's owner wasn't looking it'd be okay to look the kid over a bit more closely. Ichigo hadn't reacted until he laid a hand on his shoulder to move him into better light.

_"Please release me Master," Ichigo has said, Ashido's hand automatically reaching for the gun he'd been carrying as Pantera's new bodyguard slash slave watcher. Grimmjow had growled something in Spanish before yanking the Master away from Ichigo and rounded on the wide-eyed man._

_"What're ya doin' ya little fuck?" Grimmjow had snarled._

_"J-just gettin' a better look at 'im Sir that's all," the man had answered fearfully. Grimmjow growled something else in Spanish at him._

_"Don't fuckin' touch my property," Grimmjow snarled in English. The man nodded and ran off._

No one else dared to touch Ichigo before getting express permission from Pantera. Ashido still had yet to see the kid fighting though but he had a feeling he was going to be impressed when he did see it. As a slave watcher he was technically supposed to just make sure that Ichigo got into the ring and came back into his holding area – Private Slaves being held separately from the others.

He wasn't a fulltime bodyguard after all; he could waste the time more than just watching his so-called boss. Baishin was far more intimidating as a personal guard though.

He was beginning to wonder if Renji had had to play as muscle.

"Fuck you," Renji growled. "Ichigo…start talking."

Ashido frowned at him. "Let go of me Abarai."

"Renji?" Ichigo's voice called out innocently from behind the tattooed red head. The pineapple turned to find Ichigo standing there in simple civilian clothes, his Proofs gleaming in the lighting. His chocolate eyes gazed over Ashido and Renji for a moment before they fell solely on the taller red head. Ashido flinched at the hard look in those eyes.

Renji did too.

"Ichigo," Renji sighed as he lightly shoved Ashido away. He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered over to Ichigo, stance wary as he raked his eyes over Ichigo's form. The only injury they could see was a split bottom lip but something told Ashido he'd had more injuries under the clothes Grimmjow had outfitted him with.

Ichigo's eyes fell onto Ashido, shining with a kinder light. "I'll be there a moment Ashido; you don't have to stay."

Ashido glanced towards Renji to find the man's jaw set.

"I think I should Fifteen," he replied carefully.

"Fifteen?" Renji asked.

"It's my code name," Ichigo stated a bit proudly as he flashed a smile. "Mind if I asked what'd I walk in on?"

"No," Renji said as Ashido nodded at him a bit enthusiastically. Renji sent the other red head a glare. "It's just office talk that's getting a little heated is all."

"Yeah well I have to work with Ashido now so I'd appreciate him not being pissed off," Grimmjow muttered as he walked in behind Ichigo in a get up good enough for Pantera. He tugged as the black silk tie before setting it back into place before seeing to the cufflinks of his dress shirt. The matching black suit jacket for his pressed pants hung over his left forearm as he fiddled with his clothes.

Ichigo watched him with interested eyes and he tapped a finger on his dark colored trip pants as Grimmjow did a last look over. When he finished with that, he slung the coat on and then held out his arms to the side.

"How do I look Ichi?" he asked with a smirk.

"Like Pantera," Ichigo shrugged a bit impassively. "It's not gonna matter to me all that much why ask me?"

"Because you know how I look a daily basis Ichi," Grimmjow chuckled. "Hey Ashido, what do you think?"

"Good, dangerously powerful, works for me," Ashido said in a rush as his eyes fell onto Renji whose jaw was set a bit harder than before as he glared at his friends. "Baishin doesn't want to babysit anymore; can we go?"

"Sure," Grimmjow sighed a bit irritated. "Do you need us for anything Renji?"

"No," Renji muttered. "I apparently have nothing to worry over."

"Oh? Well then, you may as well leave huh?" Grimmjow said with a bit too much sarcasm to be kosher. Renji gave him a snarled curse before marching off. "Ashido, what was that about?"

Ashido frowned.

"How long were you listening?"

"About from 'Fuck you. Ichigo…start talking,'" Grimmjow muttered as he passed his colleague. Ichigo followed him quietly with a mischievous smirk on his face. Ashido didn't believe Grimmjow for some reason but he remained silent as they walked towards the offices. Baishin gave a relieved sigh once he saw them and left his two 'charges' to them.

Nanao had heaps of paperwork about her and she was scrambling to keep up with it since not all of it was hers alone – everyone knew Kyōraku was a lazy bastard and that Ukitake was usually coughing too hard to deal with his thanks to too many years having to smoke to get information from people. It was a bit normal to see her up to her eyeballs in paperwork. She'd make them do their own but she'd make hers first to make sure everything was in order. It was needless to say that those three had some of the best reports in the entire section.

"You clean up nice," Kiyone said happily. "Hi Ichigo, how's the lip?"

"Fine," Ichigo smiled at her. "My ribs are still sore but I can at least say that the guy knew how to throw a punch."

"That's nice," Grimmjow muttered a bit darkly. "Hey, Baishin, have we got anything from the targets lately?"

"Yeah…there's to be another fight going down in another couple weeks. They've decided you were right on Ichigo's placement as a fighter; he's going to be named a Top Fighter when we bring him in next time."

"Yeah," Sentarō sighed. "He may even get to go up against the kid we need eyes on."

Grimmjow nodded and glanced at Ichigo who gave him a blank look.

"What're you all dressed up for?" Kyōraku asked as he waltzed past the blue haired agent with a confused look on his bearded face.

"Pantera has other shit to do right?" Grimmjow asked. "Remember when we started working with you? We ran into someone near a certain apartment that is owned by an escaped slave and has had other escapees running into it. Where's Ukitake? I need him and someone else in a van while Ichigo and I look into the tenants – one of them specifically."

"He's getting a van ready," Baishin smirked. Grimmjow shook his head; the damned weird sixth sense of a veteran getting to him. Ichigo never seemed bothered by it though. He was pretty much okay with Ukitake, murmuring things like he'd put trust in the man's judgment faster than his own in certain instances.

"So…any news on what I should look out for?" Grimmjow asked.

"There was a rather big guy who entered the place a couple nights ago and that's about it. He hasn't left yet so watch out; both of you."

"Will do," Grimmjow sighed softly as he buttoned the jacket around him. "Ichi? Ready to go see your old teacher?"

"Sure," Ichigo said softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Alright then. We'll be seeing you guys later."

Within a few moments, Grimmjow and Ichigo were marching towards the van Ukitake was standing in front of, Ashido following them quietly; watching Ichigo for any sign of pain. The kid didn't show it though. If there was, he knew how to hide it. There was a discipline there that Ashido knew couldn't be achieved in a normal training facility.

_That came from fighting for your life every second, fighting in the ring or sitting in the cages. You couldn't show pain because it made you look weak_, he mused silently. _You are one scary kid Ichigo._

"Hello boys," Ukitake said kindly as he opened the driver door and hopped stiffly into the seat. Ashido clambered into the passenger seat, ready for action in a second. They could all tell by the fire in his eyes and as his hand brushed over where his gun was. Ukitake brushed his coat over his hip to hide his own weapon. "You two get the sports car," he added as he tossed Grimmjow the keys. "Please remember he doesn't have a license."

"I hate Grimmjow's driving," Ichigo muttered. "Who says I want to even learn?"

"Get in the car," Grimmjow laughed. "We'll see you two there!" He waved at the two in the van as he followed Ichigo to the black Camaro they'd been given for the night.

"You sure you don't mind talking to him again?" Grimmjow asked as soon as his door slammed shut. He glanced at Ichigo who sat in the passenger seat with that fire in his eyes again.

"Yeah…I may as well prove I'm sort of out of the cages right?"

"I guess," Grimmjow sighed as he gunned the engine to life and pulled out of the garage.

* * *

Shiro was sitting in Zangetsu's apartment quietly as Zangetsu spoke to someone separately. The guy was fucking huge, had darker than his definition of usual which ran from porcelain white to sun kissed tan, and his voice was horridly deep with a full accent of something from somewhere else. He thought Mexico or Spain but he wasn't sure. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he'd managed to slip past his family tonight.

His father had pretty much put the house on lock down. His sisters were giving him worried looks and telling him to avoid making Isshin any madder. Of course, Shinji had ended up calling him when he'd had a free moment and had explained that Zangetsu had a visitor that Shiro should try to meet if he could.

Somehow, he'd made it out of the house before Isshin could have possibly known he was leaving. He knew he'd been driven to school and that he'd never made it to class, having waited until his father was out of sight before even entering the building with his friends.

Shuuhei sat across from him, glaring darkly at his pale friend.

"You shouldn't have followed me," Shiro shrugged.

"I was trying to check up on you since the last time I talked to you, your father ended the call sounding overly pissed," Shuuhei growled. "My father is going to gut us when he notices I skipped school Shiro."

"Shouldn't have followed me then," Shiro repeated. "Do me a favor and stop making me repeat myself."

"Who is this guy?"

"He's someone who knows about my brother…like you and your father apparently."

"Don't take your anger out on me Shiro," Shuuhei growled. "I wanted to tell you a hell of a lot sooner but I had to be sure."

"Well thanks for that buddy."

"You're so welcome."

"Both of you please," Zangetsu sighed as he popped Shiro upside the head, following up with the same move on Shuuhei. "Enough. Both of you are right and wrong. You shouldn't have followed him but you should have told him of his brother sooner. You however shouldn't have gotten involved in this and I thought you said you couldn't stay long since your father is ticked off at you."

"He is," Shiro shrugged in differently. "Personally, my head still hurts from the whiplash he gave me a few nights ago. I got out of the lock down, I don't care."

"Hoorah for you; you are far too much like your brother."

"Says the guy who knows him better than me apparently," Shiro muttered.

"A teacher never knows his students. It's the same for students and their teachers; they don't know them as well as they think they do."

Shiro snorted and glanced at the mammoth in the room that stood near the door silently, his hair falling over his eyes and his arms crossed over his chest. He was…intimidating. He had more muscle mass than Zangetsu so he was broader to be sure. His height made Shiro twitch a bit too since it was just so weird to see someone that tall even in America. Seriously, what had the kid eaten to get that fucking big?

"I don't have time for you two to be idiots," Zangetsu sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "How about we all do each other a favor and forget about tonight. You two can at least say you were together – one of you being a bad influence while the other was trying to make sure he doesn't go too far off the map. That sounds believable."

"Whatever, you have extra beds," Shiro muttered. "I'm staying here."

"No, you're not," Zangetsu growled. Shuuhei instantly knew it would be best to stay on the man's good side. "Get out now."

"Fine," Shiro growled back as he shot up from the sofa. "Let's just see how my dad takes this bullshit news."

"Do you really think you're the only one who's got a dad ready to gut him?" Shuuhei asked, shooting up from the chair he'd been in. "Shiro, you're freakin' idiot! Momo and Tatsuki are going to kill you if your father – or mine for that matter – don't beat them to it."

"Leave my apartment now boys," Zangetsu said, his voice demanding but never above inside levels. "My friend and I have to speak privately."

"Whatever," Shiro muttered as he stalked towards the door.

Shuuhei spared a glance to both of the other men in the room before following his friend outside, hands in his pockets. He couldn't help but notice a well-kept black Camaro parked somewhat nearby. Someone could hear them if they stayed in near it. Hell, it was in a good place to see who came and went. He caught Shiro's sleeve and tugged it a bit harder.

"What now?" Shiro damn near yelled.

"Shut up for a second and listen to me," Shuuhei hissed as he pulled his friend a bit close for comfort. "Black Camaro, behind you." Shiro turned to look. "Don't look stupid! It can't be your father; he doesn't have that nice a car. The guy in there didn't seem to be the type who'd have a car that nice, let alone at all. It's too nice to be in this place too so it's either under covers or worse."

"Worse? Like Slave Owners?"

"More like gangsters or cartels stupid," Shuuhei muttered. "It's either we leave casually and try to not look suspicious-."

"Fat chance of that right now huh?" Shiro hissed back.

"It's either that, or we act like we forgot and go back inside."

"Zangetsu won't want us in there if there are possible cops – which FYI would have grabbed us by now."

"Maybe they're waiting for us to get away from the building either way. Think about this Shiro, we're in shitty placements here and have to think it through."

There was a creaking noise from the alley that led to Zangetsu's apartment. Shiro and Shuuhei yanked each other into an alcove and quickly clammed up as the giant from the apartment exited onto the street. He shook his head, his flopping hair falling further over his eyes as he stayed in the shadows.

_A short conversation apparently_, Shiro thought. He then pulled out a wallet and thumbed through it for a second as if he wasn't sure he had anything in it. He had plenty in it though, all of it cash. He gave a soft sigh before stuffing the wallet into his front pocket and scrubbed a hand over his face before walking off. He passed underneath a street light, revealing a few more features on him though the two boys didn't really bother to take them in as he left the neighborhood. As soon as he turned the corner, Shuuhei suddenly had the confidence to speak.

"Feel like staying at my house?"

"Yeah…sounds good to me…Maybe your dad won't kill us as gruesomely as you think he will."

"Pft. Whatever."

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**Please review even though this is badly written.**


	22. Chapter 21

**Um...please don't kill me?**

* * *

"Well that was a complete bust," Ashido was muttering as they sat in the van after returning to the garage. Ukitake sat in the driver's seat with the same horrified surprise. He hadn't expected to see Shiro present and he most assuredly hadn't expected to see Shuuhei there.

"I guess…" he sighed. "What exactly was going on in the Camaro?"

"I have no idea," Ashido shrugged in slight irritation. "Grimmjow got out of the car before I could even look in remember?"

"Right. I do remember that along with him yelling at us to get back to the office; that we could try again later."

"Yeah; the fuck was that about?" Ashido wondered aloud as the sound of screeching tires reached his ears. The Camaro was back, Grimmjow hopping out alone, his face stormy. "Well shit…Where's Ichigo?"

"I don't know," Ukitake murmured as he hurried to get out of the car, Ashido doing the same, their movements jerky. "Grimmjow? What happened? Where's Ichigo?"

"Ask Aizen," Grimmjow growled as he marched towards the elevators to the offices.

"You left him with his shrink? Why?" Ashido asked as he rushed after him. Ukitake was moving somewhat more slowly, his breathing beginning to get labored. Ashido waved at him to go slow and he replied with a look that ordered he keep up with the blue haired agent before slowing to an easy walk. "Grimmjow!"

"Because he was having a panic attack and I want to yell at someone," Grimmjow snarled as the doors opened and he stormed in, pressing a button over and over. Ashido barely made it in before the doors closed.

"Okay…do you want someone to hold you back?" Ashido dared to ask.

"Not really but it might be a smart fucking idea," Grimmjow seethed as the elevator rose. "Come on you fucking piece of shit."

"The technology can only go so fast," Ashido tried to not worry over it. Grimmjow growled under his breath.

As soon as the doors opened, Grimmjow was out of them in seconds, Ashido following him to the bullpen. There, he spotted the two detectives from Japan with Byakuya, Renji, Rukia, Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Starrk, Kenpachi, Ikakku, Yumichika, Sentarō, and Kiyone sitting there, Baishin and Nanao off to the side. Grimmjow didn't waste a second and sauntered up to Byakuya, calm as could fucking be.

_Oh shit…_Ashido thought.

"Byakuya," Grimmjow sang with a dangerous smile. Byakuya stiffened – the whole group did – and turned to look at the bigger agent warily.

"Yes? May I help you Grimmjow?" he asked. His tone was a bit snarky but it was understandable considering most of Grimmjow's original team had been against the idea of sending Ichigo into those rings again but Ichigo was more stubborn than Grimmjow was.

"You remember that one case you had…a big, Hispanic kid, beaten to death or something? Ichigo taught him? Yeah that case; you remember it," Grimmjow was laughing darkly now, his eyes glowing with a dare for Byakuya to cut him off. The raven haired agent could only stare at him with wide eyes. "Can I see the box for that case?"

"Sure…I don't see why not," Byakuya said as he rose from his chair. "Why do you want to look at it?"

Grimmjow shrugged before his eyes lit up again with something. "You know what happened to the body?"

"It's been buried; why?" Byakuya asked a bit incredulous.

"Buried? You sure? Ichigo and I could have sworn we saw his twin fuckin' walk out of the Zangetsu guy's apartment tonight…maybe it really is a twin…same build, same look, according to Ichigo same movements."

"What?" Kenpachi asked a bit surprise. Ashido's jaw was dropped too.

"That guy we saw?" Ashido asked. Grimmjow nodded. Ashido snapped his mouth shut and tried to not snort. "Whoa."

"Yeah, whoa," Grimmjow scoffed. He rounded on Byakuya then. "Are you absolutely sure about that body let alone the ID?"

"Yes," Byakuya snarled, his irritation finally showing.

"So…it wasn't Chad the four of us saw walk out of Zangetsu's place tonight?" Grimmjow shot back. Byakuya blinked at him.

"What are you implying Grimmjow?" Yoruichi asked.

"I'm implying someone got an identification wrong," Grimmjow snarled. Ashido and Ukitake were standing behind him now, their eyes wide at the accusation. "Fuckin' hell Kuchiki; you're supposed to be good at your fuckin' job! How the hell did this get past you?"

Not waiting for an answer, Grimmjow kicked the cubicle wall hard enough to make it shake before stalking off, batting away Ukitake's hand as he went. He was irritated but he wasn't seeing as much of a mist as he had been before and therefore knew he was about to cross a line if he didn't leave soon. Pantera was feared for unproved kills. There was no need to start a real reputation through damn near killing a colleague.

Besides, he had to go check up on Ichigo before Aizen was forced to call him and say something he didn't want to hear.

"How is he?" Grimmjow asked, his face flushed with rage and jaw set in anger. Aizen tried to not show his worry at the man's apparently barely bridled in rage.

"He's muttering that he apologized to Byakuya a lot and then he's saying he wants to get back to the case," Aizen said a bit blatantly. He knew better than to try to lie in situations like this and besides, Ichigo was looking pretty stable. Maybe it would be alright for him to go back. However, he had not seen Grimmjow before he'd made that decision.

"Fucking hell," Grimmjow ground out, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Please tell me he's not stable to go out into the field."

"No…I think he's stable enough to go into the field again," Aizen said. "You however… I can't say I'd recommend you to the field."

"What are you talking about?" Grimmjow snarled. His eyes went wide for a second.

"From the look on your face, something tells me you're aware enough of yourself to understand the situation," Aizen sighed with slight irritation. "Come on; you're going to want to see him to wherever you're living at the moment." He turned to move towards his office where Ichigo was lounging on the couch, arm thrown over his brown eyes, his socked feet propped on the opposite arm.

"You're sure he's stable," Grimmjow asked softly, his tone stable as Aizen placed a hand on the knob.

"Quite sure. He just wants to go home and then get back to work," Aizen stated, turning the knob. "Also, he said he wanted to talk to you."

"Me? Why?"

Aizen shrugged. "Ichigo; your ride's here again." He turned to Grimmjow as Ichigo grunted as he stood. While Ichigo shoved his shoes back on, Aizen said, "He's stable. I'd like him to keep him that way. If this case takes that sanity from him, I will blame you and find him a more stable home."

"Don't you threaten me," Grimmjow hissed.

"Who's threatening whom?" Ichigo asked softly, coat in hand and an innocent expression on his face.

"Nobody," Grimmjow ground out, quickly wrapping a protective and possessive arm around Ichigo's shoulders while he glared at Aizen.

"You sure?" Ichigo asked as Grimmjow pulled him to his broad side. Aizen watched as Ichigo's brown eyes flitted up to Grimmjow's angular face and noticed the worry and respect the boy seemed to ooze for only this man. The other agents got wariness tinged with respect and maybe a bit of playfulness depending on who it was. Aizen knew he got very little respect in some respects but he knew he had some. However, he'd never get as much as Grimmjow – who seemed oblivious to it as he pinned Aizen where he stood with that icy glare of his – let alone anyone else getting it.

"Oh I'm sure," Grimmjow said. His gaze fell to Ichigo and was suddenly kind and brotherly. He ruffled his hair causing Ichigo to groan at him. "Come on; let's get home."

Ichigo hummed in approval as Grimmjow turned to leave before him. He gave Aizen a kind smile and wave before turning to follow his owner/caretaker. They disappeared around a corner a couple moments later but Aizen felt like it was much longer than that. His blood had gone cold for some reason. It began to warm when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Isshin," he breathed.

Isshin looked at him worriedly, his eyes glowing with a sudden understanding as to what Aizen had just experienced.

"I notice you already know he's possibly my son," Isshin stated softly. Aizen nodded a bit uncertainly. _Yet another situation where it was best to not lie_, he thought. "Even Hichigo doesn't have that kind of look in his eyes despite everything."

_Oh no…_

"Mind telling me what the hell I've missed?"

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**Please review even though this is badly written.**


	23. Chapter 22

"So you're telling me…" Grimmjow muttered softly as he scrubbed a hand over his face as he eyed Ichigo who sat across from him. "There is a system within the Underground that can make you disappear?"

"Yeah…" Ichigo murmured. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He'd never thought this subject would come up around Grimmjow and then Chad had shown up right in front of them. His panic attack had been filled more of the fear that Grimmjow would react badly and – like the Masters – take it out on him. He'd been wrong but it had been the reason.

"What does this system do though?"

"It makes you disappear," Ichigo shrugged.

"How Ichigo; how does it help with that?"

"Well, first you lose a big fight and are pulled out before you're killed somehow," Ichigo explained, rubbing his hands together. "Then, a body that looks enough like you is exchanged for yours. I don't know where the bodies come from."

"Someone just finds the damned bodies and stages them?" Grimmjow asked a bit flustered at this new development. "Wait a second…you knew?"

"I apologized to Byakuya for a reason," Ichigo said as he began to bounce a knee nervously. "You have to understand; we keep it from the Masters for a reason. It's a last resort of sorts and you only tell people you know are desperate to get out."

"How desperate exactly?"

"'If I end up against you in a fight, kill me,'" Ichigo quoted. Grimmjow stared at him. Ichigo started playing with his proofs.

"'Kill me first?'" A nod. "That's how we can tell someone knows about it?"

"Yes."

"How does the word get out?"

"Most of the slaves know they should only kill when the Masters say the people want blood; lots of it. Usually, we just beat the crap out of each other," Ichigo explained softly.

"So…when a normal fight turns really bad…"

Ichigo was nodding and Grimmjow trailed off. He raised a hand to his chin as he tried to think about what he was learning. It was almost like he was trapped in High School AP English Lit all over again and it was second semester and they were reading fucking Voltaire. _Candide_ was a bitch of a read and had a shit ending as far as he was concerned. Besides, all those narrow escapes and resurrections were a little much for him to deal with – especially now when he knew exactly what a hanging could do to a man's neck.

"How can they tell?" he asked suddenly. It was a logical question. It didn't make all that much sense considering from what Ichigo was saying, it sounded like this was hard to arrange but it was executed with perfect precision on hardly any warning.

"I…have no idea. It just happens. You arrange to make a spectacle with your partner and only you know you didn't kill them."

"They're dragged away though right?"

"Yeah, by people who are – admittedly – nicer to the rest of us than most of the Masters. Maybe they know?"

"Can you point one out?"

"If they're all the same, yeah I can. Easily," Ichigo shrugged, his fingers turning white as they clenched his proofs. Grimmjow stood and wrapped a comforting hand around Ichigo's.

"Breathe Ichigo," he whispered in the kid's ear as he pulled him into a hug. "Just breathe. We'll figure this out alright? We will."

"Shiro-oniisan and Shuuhei were there," Ichigo mumbled. Grimmjow sighed.

"Yeah, I know."

"What are you going to tell the others?"

"It depends on whether or not they will be speaking to me or not," Grimmjow sighed, rubbing a hand over his face again. "I sort of blew up on them."

"You didn't…"

"Let it slip? Nah. That'll be Ashido and Ukitake's problem."

Ichigo groaned. "I never thought my family would be this involved in this."

"Take it as a sign that they care. Take it with thanks would you?" Grimmjow chuckled a bit as Ichigo nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "I thought you said that death sold better than simple bloodshed. How do these guys even manage to get past the guards that give people pat downs before they can even see the fight?"

Ichigo shrugged.

"I have no idea how they do it," he admitted. "I just know that they do."

They were silent for a moment as Ichigo calmed himself in Grimmjow's warm arms. Neither one noticed how it seemed they were both holding onto each other for stability. Either one seemed to be holding the other together but it wasn't clear which one was really breaking from the pressure of the job and everything coming with it.

"Did you ever expect to see Chad after that?" Grimmjow asked after a while in the perfect silence. Ichigo shrugged.

"Not really. When you die you don't come back."

"Well, at least we can assume that the Masters there would agree with you – otherwise, we'd have had far more problems than we have lately." Grimmjow let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. He didn't have it in casual spikes anymore, instead opting for letting it fall naturally which made him look like he had an incurable bed head problem but Pantera wasn't always known for his image. He was known for what he'd do if someone pissed him off. "So…do I need to tell the others about this? It may make them feel a bit better that there's a system in there that can even catch us unsuspecting."

"Byakuya won't like hearing about this," Ichigo murmured, a bright blush hitting his cheekbones. Grimmjow grinned at him and ruffled his now short hair.

They'd all decided to give the Kaien Shiba cut a try mainly to be able to fuck with people while Ichigo was in the ring. Ichigo had come out with long hair so Grimmjow doubted that anyone would really recognize him with the new style. The girls had even gone so far as to say he looked cute. Compared to the longer hair style, Ichigo looked a bit younger than he probably was – or closer to his real age; Grimmjow was so used to him with long hair he had a hard time believing them when they said that.

"I'll be the one to take the brunt of the blame," Grimmjow chuckled.

"I don't want you to do that," Ichigo mumbled.

"Don't worry about it…Hey, I've been hearing some stuff about your family lately – fucking Urahara."

"What's up with them?"

"You sound damned hopeful," Grimmjow laughed. "The girls are doing well. Shiro is being a little shithead at points but I think it's more out of grief than anything. He seems to be about as headstrong as you too which makes me feel for his father who's irritated with him. Speaking of…your brother, Nnoi's boyfriend, and – apparently – Chad are all teamed up with the Underground that Zangetsu is running out of his apartment."

Ichigo stiffens up a bit.

"Are we going back there?" he asks.

"I don't know…we might but considering how things look I get the feeling I'd sooner hand you to the wolves in that ring than go there. Though, knowing the aforementioned people, they may show up too."

Ichigo shrugs. "I don't think I'll mind seeing them all."

Grimmjow smiles with a chuckle. "You're far too optimistic sometimes."

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**Review?**


	24. Chapter 23

The ring was loud as always and Kaien found himself reveling in it. The noise had once been terrifying when he'd started, his mentor always giving him strange looks whenever he flinched at the sound of bone being broken or a fist making contact. Now, it was almost like music his parents had tried to get him to learn, the house slaves always giggling whenever his fingers stumbled over the keys.

The other slaves around him – all in separate cages from his since he was more likely to hit them since he'd made more enemies than friends in the ring and the Masters wanted no unnecessary harm coming to their best fighter – were whispering about another slave that had started coming in for the past few days. This one was also kept separate from the pack but his cage was always on an opposite corner or wall; no one was to be near him apparently. Kaien had seen him in his peripherals but couldn't say he was all that impressed.

This person was about Kaien's height and possibly even his same build but that was about as far as Kaien could infer. The clothes that he wore were nice, clean, in perfect condition which meant he had a private owner; someone who probably just wanted to look good somehow. The slave was always brought in early in the evening – when all the others were resting – and taken away once the fighting was done. He had day duties but Kaien never saw his owner show up. The Masters always handled the good natured slave who'd walk calmly after them; which meant he was either well trained or just submissive.

No one thought he'd last very long – no slave and no Master thought he'd do well.

"He's never going to last," one slave was hissing to the group. Kaien hated that one. He always underestimated others strengths – as Kaien had proved time and time again.

"Careful," another whispered. "You've underestimated that one for a while now and he still beats you every time." Kaien tried to not smirk. It liked a good stroke to his ego lately; not that he didn't deserve it.

Blue eyes slid over to stare innocently at the separated cage where the new slave sat peaceably, his hood up causing his face to fall into shadow. Kaien had to say that at least this person's jaw looked strong, determined but that wouldn't mean much if his body couldn't hold out in a fight.

The ring quieted for a moment then, the slaves doing the same. Kaien saw the new slave's head rise a bit at the sudden silence but no other reaction. Kaien found it…intriguing. If this person – who didn't seem to hold much promise period – was so…used to the sounds of a ring, maybe there was hope. Maybe he'd at least seen a ring fight in action, knew the way it worked. Maybe the reason his jaw seemed to be set in confidence was because he'd probably gotten a rare thing; training.

Kaien mentally shook himself. No…no Master ever trained a slave for a ring fight. Not unless they were desperate for a win and none of them were that far in debt. Besides, this person wasn't unapproachable by means of seeming intimidating. He seemed…normal.

_Ichigo used to scare the hell out of me_, Kaien thought ruefully. _When I met him he was calm, irritated, and obviously seasoned. In the ring…he was…unstoppable. He was a hurricane, a natural disaster on two legs. This person…I see the calm but I don't see much of anything else. He won't last long in that ring._

An announcement reached their ears then; someone had died in the fight. Kaien didn't bother to look disturbed. He'd seen that training pair go in with sad looks on the faces. It was bound to happen; someone was going to die in there.

A slave was shoved into a group cage, tears rolling down her face. The student, he recognized. So…yet another teacher gone. A Master beat on the cage with a crowbar telling her to shut up as other women pulled her to their sides. Her sobs quieted but they wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. Another pair of Masters shrugged through the cages, holding a limp body in their arms, one holding the shoulders, the other holding the legs. They moved past his cage and he tried to ignore the nagging feeling that the person's heart still beat.

_You're seeing things_, he thought. _They announced his death…that pulse you see on his neck isn't real. You're imagining things; just as Ichigo once said._

"Not dead yet," a voice hissed. Kaien felt a tingle race up his spine at the sound. It sounded like…not possible. _He_ was most certainly left of dead. He couldn't be here. Blue eyes fell towards where he could have sworn he'd heard the voice, only to land on the new slave. The Masters looked panicked as they passed him, a mean smirk on his lips.

_How could he possibly know if someone were dead or not? No one can tell that at such a quick glance_, Kaien thought a bit awed. He'd never learned how to spot the ones who were being saved through the 'Underground' as one safer Master called it. He remembered Ichigo always spotting some of them, his eyes growing somewhat cold when he saw the presumed dead. He'd never voice what he thought until he was sure they were alone and no one would listen in to what they were saying.

Kaien's blue eyes wandered back to the opening to the ring and he listened to the sounds of people yelling and protesting. The one voice of a Master that had never left them in all his time there was announcing suggestions on who they had to watch fight next, assuring that anyone who lost money would get a chance to win it back. He sounded so confident that he wasn't being spied on, betrayed.

A few other noises drifted into the cages but Kaien had learned to ignore them. Idle chatter of Masters could usually be ignored, one's ears really only perking when they heard things like 'death' or if the tone sounded like they suspected something was going on. One also began to tense when they heard things about how they dislike things like how _they_ were being treated; disgruntled Masters meant hardships for the slaves. Kaien knew this first hand because the Masters would usually target the more bruised slaves to hide new ones.

Ichigo's vibrant hair had never helped him on that end.

The Masters were suddenly quiet, scattering about with frightened tones and expressions. They returned to their usual posts, a monstrously tall one with dark skin and a mop of slightly wavy brown hair falling over his soulful brown eyes finding a place near his cage. That one wasn't as new as the other individual slave but he was new enough to still be considered green. Even with that sort of knowledge, the slaves had picked up on how well he seemed to know the layouts of cages, how easily he picked up on where slaves were being moved to and from, and also how very gentle he was when handling them.

He knew more than a new guy should.

"I'm sad to say this to you Pantera," that sickly voice said kindly, growing louder as the head Master moved closer. Kaien pressed himself to the bars that weren't going to be near that man. "Your slave…how to put this…he's far too green to take on any of my fighters."

"What would ya know Shank? Ya haven' even seen 'im fight yet," a deep, rumbling voice snarled. Kaien blinked as a flash of blue caught his eyes. It was the same flash he'd been spotting at random moments in the crowds during his fights. He'd heard of the same blue being seen by others.

"I don't need to see him fight Pantera; your reputation precedes you after all my dear sir. I know very well that all of your non-slaves are simply good at holding people down and letting a perceived alpha beat on someone while you or one of your higher ups watch."

The man called Pantera sucked his teeth sounding irritated. Kaien heard the tall new Master step closer a bit as Shank appeared with a blue haired, well dressed, and very mad gangster type. Piercing blue eyes were glaring at Shank with no sign of respect. That was worrisome as well as impressive in some ways; not many people showed that sort of gusto. Loads of them showed fear with respect. This one just showed hatred and maybe even some condescension.

"He ain't one of those," Pantera stated confidently. "He's one in a million. He's good. Just give him a damned chance."

"I have no difficulty believing you think he's one in a million; many Masters feel that way about their personal favorites. I feel that way about my own sitting there." He gestured towards Kaien with a casual wave. Kaien flinched back into the bars without making a sound, his eyes flashing with anger at Shank's bland treatment of him and the others. He hated being treated like an object even if he technically was one.

"Just let 'im have a fight Shank," Pantera said. "It'll sell nicely."

Shank gave a cold smile. "Maybe tomorrow night." He signaled a Master to unlock the mystery slave's cage, the occupant already standing and in a relaxed pose. Something about his tone made Kaien think Pantera had heard that line for a while now. The slave waited in the wide open cage though, hands in the pockets of the hooded sweater he was wearing. His mouth was drawn in a thin line.

_Is that disappointment I see?_

"You've been sayin' that fer the past two months Shank," Pantera was growling in warning. Shank was unfazed, his cold smile simply growing.

"I will continue to say it until I'm sure he will last more than a measly few seconds in that ring," Shank explained, sounding like a worried parent. His smile never left his face though so Kaien doubted the sincerity of the _'I'm doing this for his own good'_ tone. "You've been watching the fighters in there haven't you? Your boy is dressed nicely sure but I don't see a single bruise on him."

Pantera's stance changed a bit and Kaien automatically knew something interesting. The clothes hid most of him in cloth and shadow. Shank never really did do physical checks on the slaves unless it was after a fight and he never did it himself. He'd probably never had this slave looked at to see if he had taken any kind of hit before. However, the shift of Pantera's feet told Kaien, the kid had taken something serious before.

"Fifteen," Pantera ordered, snapping his fingers and signaling to his side. The slave stepped up to him obediently.

"He's obedient, I'll give him that," Shank sighed. "Come back tomorrow; maybe I'll have changed my mind."

Pantera held up a hand before the man could leave then silently asked for one moment. Shank sighed and nodded. Kaien's eyes narrowed as Pantera whispered something in his slave's ear. He saw the boy gulp a bit but nod none the less. He turned his back to Shank, his hands lifting out of the pockets and gripping the hem of his shirt and sweater. He pulled up. Kaien's hands gripped the bars as his eyes widened at the scars.

Shank blinked.

"Come back tomorrow," he said as Pantera signaled the slave to let the clothes drop. "I'll have a fight for you then." He whirled and left calling for 'Marcus' to show them out. The large Master near Kaien cleared his throat and stepped towards the two.

"Naturally," Pantera hissed with a sneer.

"Follow me Sir," Marcus said respectfully. Fifteen's head dropped a bit, the hood beginning to hide even his mouth. Fifteen ducked behind Pantera like a nervous slave but a good one. His master seemed to be very attentive to him as well, blue eyes dancing after his slave's movements before returning to an indifferent air. Marcus seemed confused by the exchange but he didn't say anything.

"Did you see those scars?"

"Whip marks too!"

"Something's not right."

_Well no fucking shit_, Kaien thought bitterly. Pantera was on a hit list as far as he was concerned. That slave didn't need to be fighting. He was already lucky to be alive.

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**Review?**


	25. Chapter 24

**Hehe...It's friggin' GrimmIchi Day and I completely missed it. Need to mark that in bright red on my calendar.**

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"A fight? Tomorrow?" Ashido groused. "Really? After all this fucking time? You're kidding right?"

He helped Ichigo into the back of the car, making sure to look like he was being a bit forceful. No slave was treated well here. He couldn't risk their cover. Grimmjow was slid into the back as well but he was sitting on a seat while Ichigo planted himself on the floorboards – he'd pop into a seat later when it was safe for him to sit up there.

"No…A fight tomorrow. That's all I've got."

"Damn." He slammed the door shut and moved for his own seat quickly. He hated this place. He'd watched as two Masters had come out to dump a body like it was garbage while whores and their Johns watched. He'd even seen the damnedest thing; another person in clothes that hid their face and body type had come over and pulled a 'Man in the Iron Mask' switch. One body came out from under the coat and then the first was hidden in shed clothing.

No one had noticed it, no one said anything, and no one blinked.

He slammed the door closed, started the car as fast as he could and then had to resist the urge to peel out of the garage lot like a bat out of hell. He couldn't blow Pantera's cover without a good reason. There was no reason for them to be moving quickly after all since no one had called and told him to act like something had happened and Ichigo – _Fifteen_ – hadn't been injured. He couldn't do much without a bit of prompting so he tried to look like it was nothing to be driving away from the place that made his stomach squirm up to his throat.

"So…we have no idea who he'll be fighting?" Ashido asked a bit worried.

"None," Grimmjow grunted as they moved through the streets, streetlights whirring past them like washed away watercolor paints. "All he said was that he'd have a fight for him tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath."

"I am," Ichigo mumbled softly. They could barely hear him.

"Get up here," Grimmjow ordered with an odd show of gentleness. Usually when he was in character, even around other agents, he stayed there. Ichigo however…Well, Ichigo _had_ always been a bit different.

Ichigo popped up to the seat, quickly strapping himself in with the belt. He cleared his throat and then looked at Grimmjow. Ashido saw it through the rearview mirror and was a bit surprised at the utter lack of fear in the boy's eyes, the utter respect and awe aimed at Grimmjow.

"I've seen most of the fighters in there," Ichigo explained softly. "Kaien…is the best one there though. Even with him in rough shape from the fights, he's going to be a pain to beat – if I'm against him."

"So you've seen Kaien in there?" Ashido asked in amazement. He saw Ichigo bob his head.

"Have you seen anyone else you knew?" Grimmjow asked, his voice dipping a bit. Ashido knew that tone. It suggested that they usually had that conversation in private.

"Yes…" Ichigo murmured, eyes dropping to his hands and lap.

"Who?"

"Chad."

"What's his station?"

"Guard."

"Name?"

"He led us out."

"Marcus?"

"Yes."

"Damn it!" Grimmjow raised a leg as if he wanted to kick a wall. His knee whacked the back of Ashido's seat and he had to hold onto the wheel to avoid jerking it. Hard to do considering the purely enraged tone falling through his voice. It sounded like he was about to drop back to his old accents.

"Easy," Ashido chided as forcibly as he dared. "Have to drive us all home tonight remember? No crashing on company time? Ring any bells back there?"

"Fuck company time! I was just five feet away from Yasutora!" Grimmjow raged. Ashido saw Ichigo's had fly to the man's shoulder, squeeze, and suddenly the car was calm again. Once again Ashido was astounded by the boy.

"It's not likely they'll put me against him," Ichigo said calmly. His voice was far too calm for this situation. "They'll put me against someone who's a low level Top just from seeing the scars." They'd shown his scars? "It's not going to be all that impressive though; probably a newly upgraded fighter."

"How the hell are you this calm?" Grimmjow asked sounding envious. Why the hell was he envious of how calm Ichigo sounded? Was this case finally making him lose it?

Ashido saw Ichigo shrug a bit.

"I'm…used to this stuff," Ichigo explained. "Usually, big time Top Fighters have to test out the newly upgraded Tops. You know…peer review…do they really deserve to be that high up or not. All the levels do it."

"So…you think they'll put you near the top ranks because of your scars?" Ashido voiced in mild surprise.

"Yes…Scars are easily the best ways to determine how long you've been doing this. If you have enough scars to possibly have made it up to Top Ranks, then you fight the lowest Top Fighter to ensure your level." He was playing with the Proofs around his neck absently as he spoke. His own little security blanket.

"You're a Top Fighter," Grimmjow reasoned softly. "You were probably a top ranking one too." A nod in the rearview and they were turning into Grimmjow's safe house. "They'll put you against whoever is the lowest ranking Top Fighter?"

"Probably."

Ashido saw something then. A flash of some sort in Ichigo's coffee brown depths that made his blood run a bit colder than it probably should have been.

"Grimmjow…" Ichigo murmured sounding almost desperate.

"I know…Just be on defense," Grimmjow said, a hand gripping Ichigo's shoulder in a comforting, fatherly or brotherly way.

Ashido saw Ichigo nod, his eyes calming, his lips forming a shy smile. The two said their good nights and disappeared into the house looking like a Master and his Slave. Ashido watched them in silence before slowly pulling out of the driveway and heading back to the FBI garage. Maybe it was time to let Ukitake know how he felt about this little mission.

He was a light four blocks from the FBI building when it occurred to him that he hadn't mentioned the whole switch he'd seen to Grimmjow.

"Shit."

* * *

Ichigo let out a sigh of relief. He was out of the cage again, he was at 'home,' and he was about to be able to get some sleep. Grimmjow gave him a smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The taller man knew what was scaring him. This fight could mean a lot of things. He was going to do something he'd wanted to never do again because he wanted to help someone out of the cages as well, back to their family. He wanted to strike back at the people who did this to him and other undeserving people.

"Defense right?" Grimmjow said softly. Ichigo nodded. He had to stay on defense or he may lose himself to the Mentality again. "Good…try to stay on defense until you can find a way around the opponent's moves and can get out of the fight quick. You're not to get injured more than you can help – noting it's a fight and therefore involves people and is unpredictable."

"Understatement of the year," Ichigo muttered softly.

"Noted but I have a point don't I? the last thing you need is another trip to the hospital. You're lucky you never got a broken arm or leg in there in the first place!"

"I _know_ that," Ichigo said, managing to not yell. "I know…"

Grimmjow calmed a bit at the admission. He knew he wasn't going to be able to say much about the ring's effects on people and Ichigo was really the only one who could say he knew what he was about to be doing.

"Alright…" Grimmjow sighed, running a hand through his blue hair. "So…someone was killed tonight." He had to breach the subject and there was no way to sugar coat it.

"No one was killed tonight," Ichigo said sounding confused.

Grimmjow stared at him shock. "Underground?" Ichigo nodded. "Meaning Zangetsu might have been there too?" Another nod. Grimmjow was smiling. "This is getting good."

"Sure…"

"Ichigo…"

"I'm alright…"

Suddenly, he was wrapped in Grimmjow's arms. _Every time_, he thought. _He's started to notice the mood shifts sooner now_. He lifted his arms to grip the back of Grimmjow's shirt, safety filling him with warmth. Now, he could only wonder if Grimmjow could beat away the Mentality.

* * *

**Review?**


	26. Chapter 25

**Hehe...Sorry for the lateness of an update but...College. **

**That is really all I can say is COLLEGE. I won't say I hate it. I won't say I love it. I will say however, that if I ever end up with another insane roommate, I will lodge a complaint with the school that they need to actually read the roommate preferences that they make EVERY STUDENT fill out before coming to the school. Good grief the last seven weeks sucked.**

**Alright. Enough bitching. Here's a chapter for you all.**

* * *

_Just go on defense…right_, Ichigo thought a bit bitterly as he was escorted back to his private cage. His hair was covered by his hood again, the shadows obscuring his brow and eyes. It'd been a demand from Grimmjow; orange hair was about as noticeable as blue was. Besides, there was hardly any chance that someone wouldn't recognize the color.

That was why Baishin – in his infinite wisdom had come over late that night to dye his hair a new color while the 'kids' bickered about whose custom contacts were better.

He was across from Kaien again and saw a couple newer bruises on the other man's jaw as well as a busted lip. Ichigo found himself a bit proud of his former student. A bit sad too. He was slowly killing himself from the hits alone. The Mentality was going to get to him sooner or later too.

That was what Ichigo feared. That Mentality within the ring. He'd switch it on and sometimes he couldn't switch it off. His drug of choice he guessed. It was safer to be dangerous, ruthless, merciless, heartless. Much safer in there to feel nothing but a rush for letting blood, cracking bone, leaving your opponent a simpering mess at your feet. Aizen hadn't been able to touch what his ring memories were yet because the Mentality was different from his usual self.

It had to be or he'd never be able to switch it off.

Kaien's blue-gray eyes fell on him. He could feel them on his clothes, on his skin. Calculation met with interest and Ichigo had to wonder what it was that interested his former student. it could be the clothes he was wearing, the way he was holding himself, the obedience he exhibited. It could a number of things at the moment.

It was hard to believe he was looking at the same person he'd trained though. The Mentality was beginning to show around his eyes but it was much softer than what could show in Ichigo's eyes. He had more bruises to be sure but that came with the territory. He'd had badly broken bones according to the videos that they'd seen in the files – it'd been a big thing to have Ichigo watch the hidden videos that proved the agents weren't moving as fast as someone wanted them to be before he went in – and Ichigo felt for him.

Broken bones were a bitch in the ring.

He slowly dropped to his haunches, hands still in his hoodie pockets. He let his head cock to the side like he was curious as to why he was being stared at. He was a bit interested in knowing what interested Kaien so much but he was on duty. Kaien's eyes narrowed at him in irritation and suspicion.

'Marcus' walked by, brown eyes falling on Kaien and then following his gaze towards Ichigo. The latter cocked his head at the tower of a man and then grinned amiably as if to say 'We're being friendly; I promise.'

Bullshit.

They were gauging each other.

Slaves who knew better than to underestimate others would gauge each other, try to find a weakness to exploit early on through careful glances. He remembered teaching Kaien how to gauge carefully when watching from within the cages. It was hard to tell anything through the small movements people made but sometimes one could catch another massaging something with a wince. In the ring, you had less time to watch and process. In the ring however, pain was faster to notice; a limp here, a shrug there, a wince every so often, and a quick dodge from attacks that got a little too close.

Marcus looked at them both with concerned eyes as if he'd recognized the calculating looks. _He'd better fucking remember those looks_, Ichigo thought bitterly. He'd taught them to him as he'd taught them to him just as he'd taught them to Kaien.

He could always tell who'd learned from him. They gave gauging looks that reminded him of Zangetsu. It made sense since he'd learned from the man and then had taught what he'd learned to his students. '_Pass it on_' had other meanings down here. Other connotations.

"_I know that look Kaien…I would know it…I taught it to you after all_," Ichigo whispered in his mother tongue, softly so that Kaien couldn't hear him. 'Marcus' might have heard him though. The look of shock racing through those brown eyes was unmistakable. He'd heard Japanese before and voices hardly changed once they settled.

It would have been surprising if Chad didn't at least recognize his voice; especially if he fell into Japanese. It'd be nice to know Chad remembered him, that Kaien remembered him, that his father forgave him for not being able to help his mother that night. His sisters and brother…he didn't want to even think about what they thought of him even while knowing Hichigo was obsessing over him.

The temptation to have Grimmjow take him to their home and tell them to cheer the hell up had come to mind a few times but he mainly wanted to beat the crap out of his brother for his amazing stupidity. There was nothing much he could do about it right now though. He was a bit busier than they were at the moment.

He was going to be in that ring again. He was going to let the Mentality out again, in front of Grimmjow of all people. Grimmjow would have it recorded on the hidden camera he had pinned to him. There was something about how the rest of the team would know what he was like in the ring that made him feel uncertain about himself too. The fact that they'd tell Aizen, possibly his father too – Urahara and Yoruichi definitely would tell him – about what he was now made his blood freeze, the Mentality grinning in the back of his mind.

_You're a killer. You kill to survive. The fact you hold back means nothing. You can kill with your bare hands…and_ he _will learn this after the fight_, it chuckled happily.

The Mentality was getting louder every day he stayed in these cages. He was fairly sure he'd talked to himself before he had students to speak to. Now…he was alone in a cage again listening to that sickening voice. It made Hichigo's angered voice sound soothing. Then again, it had been the lullaby he'd slept to for years.

A Master passed by them as Marcus ducked to another spot looking like a good little dog. The Master stopped by Ichigo's cage, sneered, and then commented on how 'the pretty slave' was going to be ripped to shreds in the ring to Marcus. He even pointed out the one Ichigo would be facing. He was big sure but he wasn't a smart looking hulk. Ichigo wasn't very impressed.

"Standards are low here," he hissed to himself. "All brawn and hardly any brain…Tsk,tsk,tsk."

* * *

The fight was supposed to be a test of sorts. Grimmjow knew this but it still made him twitch knowing Ichigo was going into a fight against an unknown factor. He was sort of plugging all of the teams' hopes that they'd find the criminals behind this on an emotionally scarred boy barely out of his teens. They were all pinning hopes on a boy who had memory lapses, scare fits, and had spoken of a Mentality all fighters had that made them different in the ring.

He'd called to ask Aizen if he'd heard of it from Ichigo or if he'd noticed it while they spoke about things. The man hadn't and had almost started asking what Grimmjow had learned of it. He hadn't learned much though. All Ichigo had said he wasn't himself in the ring and that was all it was.

It wasn't exactly comforting to know that Ichigo was still hiding things from him but then again, he hadn't been completely open about himself either. He hadn't told Ichigo about his family – not in detail at least – and he hadn't explained his personal interest in actually seeing Ichigo in action. He wanted to see something more than just that little scare they'd done in the alley weeks ago.

Yeah. He was about as morbid as the men crowding around him now. All he wanted was to see that fire again, to watch it burn everyone and everything in its path to the ground.

All he could hope was that it'd shine past the trick contacts they'd given him and the dye job they'd done on his hair. No one had actually seen his eyes let alone his hair yet but Ukitake wasn't willing to take the risk.

A slave with a master who had sky fucking blue hair was noticed no matter where they went. The last thing the man wanted was for someone to recognize his orange hair so Baishin had dyed it a black that may as well have come from a black hole he'd gotten it so damned dark – with a lot of cursing and muttering about dying bright hair a dark enough color so the original color wouldn't come through in the wrong lighting. Ichigo had even talked them into letting his hair get shaggy over the last few weeks of sitting in a cage with a hood over his head. Now, it was about the same length as it had been when they'd found him but it was a deep, disconcerting black.

Grimmjow however found that far more comforting without the contacts the kids had found for him. He'd never let them do his Halloween shopping. Fucking period.

Kiyone, and Sentarō had been a bit over joyed the delay in Ichigo getting a fight because it'd given them more time to get the custom contacts for him. They'd been planning, in case their elders didn't come up with a convincing way of hiding Ichigo's identity, to get the kid something that would make it hard to believe that he was the same person that had disappeared/left for dead months ago.

Thinking back, he should be mad at Nanao more than anyone since she'd dropped a hint of contacts to the two idiots.

Kiyone had gotten 'Necromonger' lenses that Grimmjow had been alright with – sort of. The black outlines faded to a pale gray blue as it got to the center with slightly indistinct purple flame-like lines blending in and out of the two colors. She'd also gotten something she called 'Death Dealer' lenses with a pale purple-blue center and black cubic lining around the edges. She'd said they should be proud of her for avoiding the rave lenses that would glow in the fucking dark.

_"If we wanted him to come off that fucking creepy, I would have gotten them," she shrugged. "I don't think it'd be smart though…too noticeable as contacts; these at least look strange enough to be thought as a trick of the light or eye tats."_

Ashido had seemed to agree when Baishin simply muttered that no sane drug dealer would put tattoos in a slave's eyes – that it was a waste of money.

Sentarō however had gotten ones that were a darker blue with more black outlinings called 'Atlantian' lenses as well as 'Frosty' lenses. The first pair Grimmjow and the others could deal with. The partially blind look the frosty ones gave however didn't fly. Not even with Kyōraku who was fairly open to anything. Then Nanao, who'd apparently gotten the jump on them all, came out with Ichigo and declared he had the perfect lenses.

_"Blind Custom Lenses," she said as Ichigo blinked the stupid white lenses into place._

_"Are you sure about this?" Ashido asked, his face pale._

_"Yes. It'll give him more of an edge," she said as if it should have been clear to the rest of them too. She then spotted the frosty lenses and smiled. "Cute, but these will work much better."_

_"Hell no," Grimmjow growled. "He's not-!"_

_"I like them," Ichigo said with that damned irresistible smile of his. Nanao chuckled deeply in her throat and hugged him. He gave Grimmjow a flattening look as she did. "They'll work."_

So, he was damned close to leaning over the sidebar as he waited for Ichigo to come out and reveal himself to the others. He'd spotted Renji and Rukia at least four times in the crowds as well as Urahara and Yoruichi. He could also have sworn he'd seen Ulquiorra and Nnoitra slipping about as well as at least two others he knew by heart from Ichigo's descriptions.

Given, Shirosaki tended to stick out like a sore thumb; even without Shuuhei trailing him and Zangetsu around with a worried look on his face that could be seen a mile away despite the hood on his head and the sunglasses on his eyes.

_Kenpachi is going to kill you kids_, Grimmjow thought ruefully as the three edged closer to him by pure accident. They were all wearing black, Shiro's snowy hair hidden under a cap. Shuuhei kept pulling his coat collar up a bit to hide his face. His scars were noticeable after all. So was Shiro.

So was the man – Grimmjow was sure it was Zangetsu since it obviously couldn't be anyone else – standing with them.

Ashido slipped up to him, stumbling a bit over peoples' feet and legs. He looked half worried half terrified.

"I know who they have up against him," he hissed. Grimmjow saw Shuuhei and Shiro's eyes flick to them only to narrow – well, Shuuhei's widened.

"Who?" he hissed back.

"That," Ashido gulped as he pointed at the monstering hulk of a man below them. He'd give Kenpachi a run for his money size wise and Grimmjow didn't even want to think about his strength. He didn't look stupid either.

"This…could be a problem," Grimmjow muttered.

* * *

**Review?**


	27. Chapter 26

**Hehe...Sorry for the lateness of an update but...College. **

**I have a single room and crappy wi-fi aside, my finals are done and my brain is getting a chance to rot again. My grades won't be posted until tomorrow though so...and I can't breathe anymore. Time to find a distraction.**

**Jeeze this is late.**

* * *

Ichigo wasn't worried. He couldn't be. He was incapable of it at the moment. Chad could look as worried as he wanted. Kaien could look like he pitied him. He wasn't capable of caring at that moment. It was too much fun to think the others all thought that that hulking mass could harm him let alone touch him.

Laughable.

Utterly laughable.

If it weren't so fucking pathetic, he'd be laughing.

That thing couldn't take him on! What were these people; stupid? Had to be. They had to be to think that could do something to him. Shit…they must not have been thinking straight. Didn't he tell them about his scars? Didn't he say he thought he'd be worth challenging someone…better? Apparently not.

Disappointing.

Very disappointing.

_Why did I ever think these people were scary? They're idiots for fuck's sake! It must be because I was little and didn't know any fucking better. Has to be. Children are dumb after all. They think in a naïve way that will get most people killed if they use it. Stupidity breeds death. Strongest survive while the weak perish in the pits of hell. Simple really._

A rattle reached his ears as the cage opened. The Sneering Master was back. Without a word, he grabbed Ichigo's arm and yanked him up none too gently. Why should he? Ichigo was property to someone who apparently thought too high of his little pet. The slaves were murmuring, sounding worried. He knew those tones.

This one liked to be rough with the slaves he disliked or thought very little of – which meant all of them sure but there were those who'd get it worse than others.

He dragged Ichigo from the cage, laughing as Ichigo's leg slammed against the half-closed door. Ichigo ground his teeth in irritation like he would have in the past. There was no point in saying something in response since this man wouldn't – couldn't – give a shit. He would probably like to tear off the hoodie from Ichigo's back rather than simply make him knock his knees around.

He wouldn't though, the bruising grip on Ichigo's arm was enough to tell him that much. He was restricted to this and this alone. Otherwise, Ichigo would have lost the sweater and the shirt under it.

He was shoved past Kaien's cage when the Master was suddenly called.

"Stay," he commanded before walking off.

"You're obedient," Kaien hissed softly. He didn't think Ichigo would be listening apparently. Or maybe he was hoping he was?

"Trained to be," Ichigo hissed back, rolling his shoulders a bit as he looked over his shoulder to watch the Masters talk.

"Going to die a dog?"

_I trained this person? Interesting outcome._

"Not in my plans today actually."

Kaien looked like he wanted to let loose with laughter.

"Plans? What slave has plans?"

Ichigo smiled. "The ones that know they aren't really slaves."

Kaien raised a brow in interest. "What do you mean? We're all slaves here."

"You and I know both know that's a load of shit…Ichigo."

The look on his face was priceless and Ichigo couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking with bottled laughter. Kaien now knew that he wasn't someone to take lightly now. A simple stranger couldn't just _know_ that name after all. He was someone to worry about again.

Why did he need Kaien to be scared of him to feel like he was truly back?

_Sing and dance, sing and dance, let's go kill us a hulk_, the Mentality sang as his contact covered eyes fell back to the ring where his competition was being introduced. He didn't have to kill him, he knew that. The Mentality knew it too but it liked to think in a black and white world.

Kill or die.

Die or kill.

Simple life.

A very simple life.

One he found himself almost missing.

"How do you know that name," Kaien growled softly to avoid being heard. Ichigo chuckled and slipped his hood off to reveal white eyes and light eating black hair.

"I know more than you think Shiba; much more."

"Who…are…you," he ground out.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He slipped the hood back on and the Master grabbed his arm again a moment later. _Sorry, but I can't tell you that right now._

* * *

"He's going against a shrimp?" Shiro asked to Zangetsu in slight horror and disbelief. Shuuhei inched closer to him. "Shuuhei…you didn't have to freaking follow me form school you know?"

Shuuhei scoffed at him. "Yes I did…have you not heard your father lately? I seem to remember a rather terrifying phone call even if you don't."

"And I still ditched him," Shiro growled.

"Enough you two," Zangetsu sighed. "Watch carefully; this is different from simply videotaping the fights. Now, you're actually in the crowd. Now…you'll see the real blood."

"And Grimmjow's next to us too Shiro," Shuuhei hissed, trying hard to talk sense into his friend. He wanted to get out of there. He could tell the taller man wanted to get the hell out of there as well. It was subtle but it was there; a fear of this place, of the people, of what happened here. Shuuhei just didn't like the feel of this place.

"I don't care," Shiro growled at his friend. He looked up to Zangetsu. "Seriously though, dose that shrimp stand a chance?"

"That 'shrimp' is about your exact dimensions," Zangetsu chided. "If he can fight like you can, even if it's only a fraction, he may manage a few minutes. However, if he cannot, this will be short."

"How short?" Shuuhei asked sounding desperate.

"Not short enough," Zangetsu sighed sadly. "Trust me, none of these ever are."

"Has one ever been too long?" Shiro asked, sounding morbidly curious. Shuuhei wanted to gawk at his friend. How could this interest him so much?

"They all last too long, especially when one is hurt," Zangetsu chided.

"Shiro, they're in death matches; how long do you think these matches feel?" Shuuhei growled. Shiro gave him a look that snapped his mouth shut in a heartbeat.

"My brother's been in these death matches and he survived because Zan here taught him," Shiro hissed. "Zan knows these things better than anyone besides a fellow slave and he thinks Ichi's still alive…Though, Shiba apparently takes precedence." He sounded irritated at that last bit of information.

"He's a son of a rich man," Zangetsu reasoned. "The sooner he's out, the better. I'm surprised he's survived this long; impressed but surprised."

"Screw him," Shiro hissed.

"Watch the shrimp," Zangetsu ordered.

Shuuhei let his gaze fall back to the smaller of the two slaves that were circling each other now. They'd been announced and it was already apparent from the cash floating about and the shouts that 'Fifteen' owned by Pantera wasn't expected to survive this fight. Not with his head on straight that is. If he did manage a hit, his expectation may go up but the hit would have to be god damned impressive to get him out of the ditch he'd inadvertently fallen into.

Shuuhei mentally prayed for the poor fuck. _Let him be fast. Please, let him be fast enough to give that hulking monstrosity a run for his money._

Hulk dove at Fifteen, fist jerking back into a ready position. Shuuhei wanted to close his eyes, bracing for the sound of impact. He didn't though and he found himself tempted to let his jaw weld itself to the ground.

Fifteen could jump.

He cleared the hit and flipped over the guy's head, landing with hardly any sound behind him as Hulk's fist slammed into the wall. Fifteen turned around, revealing that his hands had never left the pockets of his hood. A wicked smirk crawled over his lips as he sauntered away from Hulk backwards.

Hulk roared in pain from his hurt fist and spun to glare at the backtracking Fifteen who was still smirking. Smirking in a mocking way none the less. Like he was jeering 'come and fucking get me' to the guy who outweighed him. Hulk growled and swung his arm out sideways at the smaller man.

"Ha," Fifteen laughed before leaping up and twisting himself to the side over the trunk-like appendage. He landed one foot at a time, falling into a crouch, hands finally appearing to help balance him. His smirk didn't leave his face as Hulk roared at him and swung downward.

The fist came down and Fifteen shot himself forward, flipping back up to his feet in what almost looked like a backflip. His hands acted as the balance point, his feet kicking his body into the air where he twisted to land facing the giant again. Another fist shot at him and he back flipped away. When he straightened again, all Shuuhei saw was that smirk.

Well, that and very blind eyes.

"He's…blind," Shuuhei gasped. Shiro looked half impressed with the guy now.

"No he's not," Zangetsu whispered. "He can see just fine."

"How? By using some sort of blind man's sight method?" Shiro asked.

"Have you ever heard of custom contacts?" Zangetsu snapped. Shiro nodded, a blush covering his face from embarrassment.

"Who'd pay to have that done for their slave?" Shuuhei asked. He'd seen plenty of slaves who never got compensation for a disability like weakening sight or hearing or fragile bones.

"Someone who gives a shit about a slave," Shiro muttered reasonably.

"Who'd also put the slave into a fight ring?"

"Right…it makes no sense."

"It does actually," Zangetsu murmured, eyes falling to Grimmjow. "Shinji said it himself; they have something going on."

"And we're watching it?"

"He got a hit in," Shuuhei declared softly, his eyes still not quite accepting what he'd just seen. Surely there were rules about hitting people in the head? The crowd's cheers told him otherwise.

"What?" Shiro asked.

"He jumped into the air and roundhoused the guy in the head," Shuuhei explained quickly as he watched the slave back flip away from the furious hulk who was roaring in pain.

"Point to Fifteen," the 'judge' called sounding impressed. Who wouldn't be? The guy could move blind or not.

Fifteen was still smirking as he dropped his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie. He glanced up towards his blue haired owner and a genuine smile appeared on his face for a moment. Grimmjow smiled softly and nodded at him, something akin to pain filling his eyes. The smile on Fifteen's face faltered for a second before he turned his head back to Hulk who was cursing under his breath, eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at Fifteen.

Fifteen's chin jerked up then, the hood falling from his head to reveal jet black hair that made his pale eyes stand out even more than they probably should have been able to considering that his hair seemed like it was going to eat the light in the entire arena. Hulk growled again before shooting towards Fifteen again, his uninjured fist raised at the ready. Fifteen disappeared before his fist could manage to lodge the hand into the dirt of the arena.

Fifteen was across the arena floor by the time Hulk noticed his fist wasn't going to be going anywhere very quickly. He glared over his shoulder as he struggled to get his hand free at Fifteen who simply stared at him, face blank. Hulk wrenched his hand free and charged once again only to miss when Fifteen dodged and then have the air knocked out of him when Fifteen's foot lodged itself right under his sternum. He tumbled backwards, gasping for air as Fifteen lowered his foot back to the ground, and stumbled over the self-made hole in the floor.

"Point to Fifteen," the judge called again. Shuuhei watched as Grimmjow glanced at the judge and then back to Fifteen who was now shedding the hoodie to reveal the plain red shirt under it completely.

He was an extremely well dressed slave but he obviously had a great deal of ability. It was strange to see the two together. The combination was…unheard of in most circles. A well-dressed slave rarely had the ability to actually fight. They usually got the tar beaten out of them and that was always a warning to the owner to not brag or dare to bring their weakling slaves to the arena again.

Slaves that weren't well dressed – unadorned with needless crap basically – were usually the ones that had a will to try to live for something. There was the offer of being sold to someone who would treat them a little better than the Masters here if they did well or something. Maybe they'd retire early and be given easy lives afterwards. There were better things to think about after all and the poorly dressed ones knew about them when well-dressed ones came in. they had things to aim for while the well-dressed did not.

This one…Fifteen was strange. He had the moves of someone who'd never seen the outside of the cages or arena. The smile alone could prove that as well. However, the clothes spoke that he was well cared for and the fact that he was obviously well fed made that fact seem all the more arguable. He could move like any other slave in the cages but he was too well cared for to be regarded as a normal slave.

The hood fell to the ground and suddenly Fifteen seemed different. His face was completely blank, his eyes flashing with some sort of fire that Shuuhei hadn't ever seen before. The disconcerted look on Hulk's face screamed that he'd seen it too and suddenly Shuuhei felt bad for him.

"I think Hulk's screwed," Shiro whispered then, eyes wide with something like fear.

"No question," Zangetsu murmured softly. Shiro glanced up at him.

"Something wrong Zan?" he asked.

"Yes…"

Fifteen shot off, a fist slamming into Hulk's jaw, jerking the man's head to the side harshly. It was followed by another which slammed it back the other way. This went back and forth for a few seconds, Fifteen's fists burring as he forced the man into a wall, before his right fist finally snapped up to the bottom of Hulk's chin. Hulk's head snapped up, the back of his head slamming against the wall harshly and the bigger man fell to the ground, Fifteen stepping out of the way to avoid being crushed.

The ring went silent before the Judge called the match as a win to Fifteen which was when the place erupted with noise. Shiro and Shuuhei watched as Fifteen waltzed over to his discarded hoodie and picked it up with his strangely blood free hands.

"…I know who that is," Zangetsu said softly, his voice almost being swallowed by the roar of the crowd that was either congratulating Grimmjow for his win, on his slave, or complaining about a bad bet.

"Who?" Shiro and Shuuhei chorused.

"…Not here. Somewhere…less…loud."

"You're not gonna tell us are you?" Shiro sneered.

Zangetsu didn't reply, his eyes fixed on Fifteen as the young man adjusted his hoodie back onto his back and over his head before following a Master back to the cages. Shuuhei frowned but said nothing as he watched the boy disappear into the shadows.

* * *

**Review?**


	28. Chapter 27

**Yay for Winter Break and so on and so forth.**

* * *

Kaien leaned back into the corner of his cage that would allow him the best vantage point for the rest of the cages, particularly the one that would house the private slave that hid his face from everyone and everything. There were few things that made Kaien feel uncomfortable and the private slave was one of them.

_He knew that name_, Kaien had thought over and over while he listened to the roaring cheers of the ring. _He knew Ichigo's name and my family name. He can't know those names unless…unless…_

His thoughts stopped as the Masters dragged the hulking monstrosity back into the cage area. Kaien arched his neck a bit to glance to the door as they dragged him into the area. Kaien couldn't help but notice that he'd faced that monstrosity before and hadn't come out all that well himself. He'd expected the private slave to come back bruised and broken but not the monstrosity. He'd felt said monstrosity's punches before and he knew the damage they could do even when they only managed to graze a person's arm.

A few moments later, Fifteen sauntered into the cage area, taking slight bats at the sleeves of his hoodie. Everything about him said he was cool and calm despite having just had a fight with someone who had to outweigh him by at least a few hundred pounds to say the very least. Kaien watched as the private slave moved casually past him and moved to his personal cage. One of the Masters opened the cage for him, eyes slightly wide as he looked at the lanky slave who had apparently trashed the biggest slave they had on the lot all on his own, and he simply stepped in like he was used to the wary treatment.

The cage door closed with a rather loud bang that made most of the other slaves that weren't all that used to the noise being quite that loud on usual terms. Even Kaien was a bit surprised at how loud that cage door seemed in that moment but then again, that person was hard to beat. Yet, there stood Fifteen completely unharmed and the same could not be said for his opponent who Kaien had barely scraped past.

_This person_, Kaien thought worriedly as he stared at the other slave who seemed to be more than simply calm as he leaned against the pars of his cage. _This person isn't human._

* * *

Grimmjow had forced himself to walk as casually as possible the to the cage area. It was hard to do considering even without having seen Ichigo in action. Even before, he'd had a problem talking his body into entering those areas. It brought up too many bad memories going into that place. All he could hear was screams and all he saw was blood and scar tissue of former slaves that his extended family had owned, that his father ended up liberating and sending to worthy and safe homes. This place wasn't all that different from some of his uncles' places.

However, he'd never had co-workers with him at the same time.

Yoruichi had looked ready to kill someone after the fight ended, Urahara holding her arm in a vice-like grip to keep her still as well as whispering in her ear. From a distance, they looked like people arguing over possible prices or something – plenty of the men argued over whores in these places at times. He'd even noticed Ulquiorra and Nnoitra disappear into the crowd as Ashido's knees nearly gave out on him. Renji and Rukia however had joined him in the long walk down to the cages. Neither looked very happy.

"I can get him on my own you know?" he hissed as they followed their guide down the steps. Grimmjow was fairly sure it was the Head Master leading them considering how many people had come up to speak to the man but he couldn't be sure. All he'd been able to glean before deciding to shut down a bit in memories was that the man was called 'Shank'. He wasn't all that sure that this man had actually been named that by his parents. No mother would name a person that unless she was asking for some seriously bad karma.

"We know," Rukia stated calmly though Grimmjow could hear the slight hint of unease there at the edges. He knew that sound very well. he'd heard it so many times before.

Renji was thankfully biting his tongue but his cherry eyes hid no feeling whatsoever.

"Good to know," Grimmjow muttered softly, avoiding her violet eyes and started to think about how Shiro and Shuuhei disappeared into the crowd.

He could barely remember the look on their so-called chaperone's face before they'd disappeared but what he could remember was enough to tell him something was up. He had a hunch it took a lot to get a worried look to even dare to cross that man's face and he was positive he'd seen it flitting away before the man had whispered to the boys and the three disappeared into the crowd.

"Mister Pantera," Shank's oddly deep voice called gently. Grimmjow wanted to strangle the bastard as soon as he saw the slick smile on his strangely handsome face. Yes, Shank was a looker in a toned down sense. He wasn't hottest bachelor worthy but he wasn't exactly ugly either. He seemed to be dancing on that irritating edge of good versus bad looks with a cane and top hat. The slick smile made Grimmjow quite sure of the image.

"What?" he snapped back. It was strangely in character too; his shoulders her back, his hips were cocked, he was already glaring, and his hands her halfway into his jean pockets. He looked at ease while his two compatriots looked half irritated and half on edge. Well fine then. They could play bodyguard like that.

"I'm sorry for the delay," Shank stated calmly, completely unfazed by the sudden treatment from a drug leader. Maybe he was used to it. "Your slave is right this way." He pointed with a smooth twist of his wrist towards the cells that were strangely quiet in Grimmjow's opinion. He tried to ignore how it felt like his eyes narrowed at the lack of sound and the casual smirk on the bastard's face.

They were walking again as soon as Grimmjow jerked his chin out in a strange nod. He tried to ignore how much Shank's sauntering walk irritated him. It was a little difficult to ignore though since something about the sway in the bastard's shoulders simply irritated him beyond understanding.

"Lead on," he muttered letting his head swing around to gaze at the pain around him.

There were slaves in loose bandages and hardly any clothing. He also couldn't help but notice some of the slight deformations on some of their torsos where bones had healed incorrectly or skin and muscle had grown around a weapon fragment – both ideas being quite possible in any sense. The clothes – if he could even call it that still – were basically rags of whatever the person had been wearing when they came in or had been taken from the deceased – again, either idea being possible. He tried to ignore the women who'd lost their shirts entirely and were stuck in torn pants and bras as well as men in torn boxers only.

Suddenly, his extended family didn't look quite as bad as he remembered.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Rukia hissed to Renji as they walked.

"Not as sick as Fifteen will be," Renji growled back.

Grimmjow resisted the urge to turn and glare. At least Renji had used the code name. He'd give the man credit for that one at least. Grimmjow could have done without the reminder that he would probably have a near catatonic Ichigo on his hands again though. He had a sinking feeling though; one that said Ichigo _wouldn't_ be near catatonic or even shaken up about things.

The walk seemed to breeze past Grimmjow as he tried to ignore the injured men and women around him and tried to reign in his desire to trip Shank and then beat the living hell out of him. God damn it was a wonderful temptation to think about. Too bad he would have two other agents trying to pull him away and too bad he was on the job.

Ichigo was leaning against the bars of his cage, hood over his head and hands in the hoodie pockets. He seemed to be completely at ease and Grimmjow found himself seriously hoping it was just a very good act. Shank called to the boy and his head rose a bit to 'look' towards the sound. He straightened when he was told and waited calmly for the door to be unlocked by the Head Master.

Rukia's fingertips brushed his sleeve just enough to get his attention then, her other hand rising to swish a nonexistent hair from her brow. His blue eyes followed the fingers of her hand slyly and found them landing on a rather grubby looking Kaien Shiba. He tried to not clench his fists any tighter than they already were as it was but he found that a much more difficult feat than not attacking Shank outright. He flexed his hands, his thumbs remaining hooked in the corners of his pockets, and stared ahead as if looking over merchandise. He didn't want to be there anymore and was beginning to think of looking for any and all excuses to get the hell out of there.

"Here we are," Shank declared then after the door squealed open. Grimmjow looked at Ichigo again for a minute before nearly raising his hand to beckon the young man over when he thought better of it.

"Fifteen," he stated as coolly as he could manage. Ichigo's head inclined to the side a bit, expression blank. "Come." The word came out a little forced sounding but Ichigo stepped out of the cage as if he had been expecting the snap. He sidled up to stand in front of Grimmjow as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

While Rukia and Renji tried to hide the looks they were trying to give him, he cupped Ichigo's chin with his right hand and moved the young man's head about as if to inspect him for injury or damage. Ichigo let him, his neck almost limp as Grimmjow turned his head about a bit.

"Looks like you're treating him well enough," Grimmjow stated shortly, his hand dropping from Ichigo's chin like he'd been burned. Ichigo automatically dropped his head and shoulders before Grimmjow jerked his chin at Rukia. The petite woman gripped Ichigo's elbow and pulled him to her side while Grimmjow fixed Shank with a look.

"He did quite well for you tonight," Shank stated with that sly grin plastered on his face. Grimmjow was amazed his hands didn't clench into fists and his face stayed level. "I'd like to see him in action again. We will be sure to pay you handsomely."

They were getting so close and all Grimmjow had to do was agree to another fight. All he had to do was look interested and say he'd be in touch. All he had to do…was abandon everything his father had taught him about human life and let himself be consumed by the so-called morals of his extended family.

"…Call me when you have a good fight for him," he stated, turning on his heel and stepping away. Rukia steered Ichigo after him while Renji hung back a bit before following.

Grimmjow didn't realize he was outside until the cool air smacked him in the face and by then he noticed he was sweating. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he tried to breathe slowly and calmly. Rukia was muttering something under her breath as they walked, Renji growling curses under his breath as well while Ichigo just freed himself from Rukia's grip and slipped close to Grimmjow.

"Are you okay?" Ichigo asked, his voice soft.

"No…I'm not," Grimmjow muttered softly. Ichigo just looked at him, those damned contacts making his gaze almost eerie rather than reassuring.

"Wanna talk?"

"…Later."

The boy simply nodded before gripping Grimmjow's arm in the crook of his own. The effect was almost instantaneous; Grimmjow felt himself calming down and felt his heart settle. He didn't feel himself practically fall into the car, Ichigo following him quickly and clasping his hand in his own. The drive 'home' was completely lost on him as he focused solely on staying calm and not eating at himself for what he'd just put this boy through again; what he'd just done to everything he'd ever been taught.

_I hate this job_, he thought bitterly as he gazed at Ichigo's head, streetlights flashing over his as Ashido drove them home.

* * *

**Review?**


	29. Author's Note 2

So...No one reads my profile apparently. Actually. No. That's wrong. Hardly anyone reads it. Some people do. Others don't. Fine. I'm not innocent in that respect either. Whatever.

Here's the deal:

I'm an undergrad student majoring in biological sciences trying to become a veterinarian. I am also, apparently, minoring in Japanese. I am spending the majority of my summer(s) either at a clinic getting hands-on experience, on the back of a newly leased horse, or taking care of my two dogs - one of which has proven that two extracted teeth weren't enough; he has low-grade melanoma. The internet at my house is limited thanks to bad modems burning out before their year long contract expires. The internet at my school is limited beyond belief. I have two other RPs going with another friend who is about to be a junior in high school and has also set her sights on being a vet. She wants to go to the same school I am at currently and so I'm also giving her hints and tips to save her some pain and frustration.

My profile was updated to say I was going to update slowly when I got into college. I have no problem with being asked to update but in all honesty, I have no idea where this story is going anymore and am trying to let things figure themselves out. However, I've also prioritized schooling over fanfiction. Sorry but...things are going to be stupidly slow if not glacially slow. I apologize but sometimes, it doesn't really matter how much I love reviews. I'd prefer to get my shit straight before just going in blind and screwing everything up.

Thanks.


	30. Chapter 28

Zangetsu stared towards the streets below his apartment, his eyes distant. He'd sent the teens home soon after they'd slipped out of the arena. Shiro had been less than inclined to leave but Shuuhei had had enough sense to talk his friend down. Zangetsu wasn't fully sure he knew what to expect of the scarred youth but it most definitely had not been that. He wanted so very much to wonder about the expression on Shuuhei's face as he'd dragged Shirosaki home but his head simply kept swimming back to the last fight they'd seen.

He knew something wasn't right that a fighter like that wasn't being seen more often. This was the first time 'Fifteen' had been shown off and if the rumors were anything to go off of, his owner – a private owner for god's sake – had been near to begging to get him in the ring. Whenever a private owner did that, it usually meant they were looking for someone to discipline a slave or rid them of a useless one in a cheap way – sometimes even profitable in the sense of the latter. But it was rarer than anything for the slave to be any good. Especially not when an owner claimed they were whatever level. Yet, this one was obviously the level his owner claimed and probably worth far more than even Shank's men could calculate with their unimaginative brains.

And those moves; Zangetsu knew those almost dance-like movements that made the fight look almost choreographed. He'd taught those abilities to many but there had really only been one person who'd managed to get them correct in every way possible. There was something almost poetic about how that child moved in the ring, like he'd been born for it. Zangetsu could still remember having a child thrown before his feet and was told that he was to teach the child.  
The boy had been no older than ten when he'd been tossed into the same cage as Zangetsu. He was a skinny thing with no real muscle mass on him and he had bruises all over the place as well as a split lip. His eyes had screamed innocence but there was also a fire in the depths of his chocolate orbs; one that made Zangetsu shiver then and even get chills at the memory. It was a strange fire that very few had in them and the ones who did were usually the ones one would have to watch out for. They learned faster than the others, improved faster, and surpassed their teachers faster. They were the ones who became the slaves no one wanted to fight because they were just too good.

The hulking monstrosity that Fifteen had fought was nothing to sneeze at either. He wasn't the fastest thing there but he was certainly one of the strongest. He'd had strength where many did not as well as size. It was strange to see someone that big being slammed to ground by someone as small and lanky as Fifteen.

"Zangetsu," a soft voice called from the doorway. The man turned slightly to see Chad standing in the door like a giant, his mop-like brown hair falling over one eye.

"Chad," Zangetsu murmured as he turned away from the window to greet his partner. "Please, come in."

Chad slid in, the door clicking closed behind him as the young man stared down at the floor like there was some sort of interesting pattern there or something. Zangetsu was fairly sure that his floor was as plain as plain could be; mostly because he'd practically placed it himself.

"That last fight was…impressive," Chad murmured softly as he crossed the room to the fridge. He wasn't one to drink but Zangetsu was not known to not prepare for the outcome of Shinji wanting a beer or something to escape his lover's cryptically silent nights. Zangetsu had a sinking feeling though that this was going to be one of those nights where Chad would stare at the booze in the fridge, contemplating if he should take one or not.

Then again, this could also be one of the nights where the giant young man downed half of the fridge's contents in record time.

"Indeed," the elder replied softly as he warily watched Chad eye the beers then the sodas Zangetsu had forced himself to buy once he'd found his home invaded by Shiro and Shuuhei. He waited as the young man's eyes fell on the bottled seltzer waters then back to the beer. The elder sighed in resignation.

"What?" Chad asked, eyes not leaving the alcohol before him.

"Will you just take a beer already?" Zangetsu asked with an irritated tone.

Chad blushed a bit before taking one of the bottles and throwing the door closed again. The twist-off cap was off seconds after the door rattled closed. Before Zangetsu could register it, Chad had downed half of the bottle.

"That too was nothing short of impressive," Zangetsu muttered in amazement. Chad blushed again. "You recognized the injuries on Fifteen's opponent?"

"Of course," Chad sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his brow, momentarily lifting the bangs from them to reveal two brown eyes in full. He looked exhausted from more than just standing by and waiting for a cue at the ring. His eyes spoke louder than he did and it only took a little time to become able to read them. This exhaustion however was different than what he always came back with.

Zangetsu didn't comment though considering the fact that he knew quite well how difficult it was to see injuries that could only be dealt by one person again. He was experiencing it presently and knew that the last thing he would want would be to be pushed for information.

"You got to see him actually move in action," Chad said a little fearfully. Zangetsu nodded quietly. "How did he move?"

"…Like Ichigo," Zangetsu whispered. "He was as fast, as precise, and as fluid with said precision. It was almost as if the fight was choreographed for him and only him."

The room lapsed into silence as Chad digested Zangetsu's words, slowly sinking into a chair, the beer beginning to slip to his fingertips. Zangetsu found himself a seat as well, eyes wandering back to the window and the street below. Things were still loud on the streets but he saw it as white noise most of the time. He'd gotten used to loud noises during his time in the cages and in the rings. Cars blaring and screeching didn't make a bit of difference to him.

"Do you think he came back?" Chad asked, fear lacing his voice momentarily.

Zangetsu couldn't blame him really. Ichigo had been young when he'd been brought in and he'd soaked in everything he'd seen and had been taught – actively or otherwise. It had been terrifying to see someone that young gain the Mentality so quickly but he'd seen the boy fighting it like he thought it could be defeated. There wasn't much that came out of fighting the Mentality though; Zangetsu had seen so many fail against it. He'd been hopeful that the rumors of Ichigo being lost in the system had been true, that he truly had been found by good people and was receiving help and comfort from them.

But when he'd seen Ichigo – and he was positive that it was Ichigo – standing in that ring again, he'd been reminded of the boy's first solo fight.

He remembered the Masters ripping Ichigo from his arms as they'd slept one night, both content in the knowledge that they would not be fighting that night since Zangetsu was injured and Ichigo was still being taught by him. He could remember being held down so the Masters could chain him to a wall where he could watch his student possibly die in a fight against someone who'd obviously lost themselves to the Mentality.

He'd watched as Ichigo was thrown into the ring with what Zangetsu could only equate to a monster that was to be Ichigo's opponent. He'd watched as Ichigo had run from the thing he'd been left alone with, his arms screaming out in protest as he pulled against the chains, screaming instructions before he was finally gagged. Ichigo had been so small, so vulnerable, his brown eyes almost eating his face as he cried out for Zangetsu to help him, a tiny hand reaching through the bars towards his teacher.

He'd seen the child yanked away from the bars by his ankles, his head slamming against them violently before he was thrown across the ring like a rag doll. Zangetsu had remembered trying to tear free from the chains again as Ichigo laid limply on the ground, his head bleeding profusely as his opponent stalked over to him.

Then, he remembered the cold fire in Ichigo's eyes before he watched as the child turned the tables all on his own.

"His first solo fight had ended in his first kill," Zangetsu whispered softly, a hand brushing over his bearded chin as his eyes raked over the floorboards like they hid some answer to life itself. "It was all I could do to not fear that child after that."

Chad was silent as usual. The only thing cutting the tension in the room was the fear in Chad's visible eye and the blaring of the city outside. The elder man pressed his mouth against his hand, shaded eyes finding the plain flooring suddenly mesmerizing as the younger had earlier.

"I cannot say I have ever truly seen the child since that fight," the elder murmured against his fist. "I cannot even claim it was the monster the ring taught him to become for his opponent was only injured."

Again, the room lapsed into an uneasy silence. It was the sort of silence that tended to eat at a person. The kind of silence in which past sins could hear their target's heart beating in knowledgeable fear of what was coming. Horror movies tried and failed to get this silence right, the music always ruining it or the over acting of the cast. It was the silence that everyone ran from; even the completely innocent.

"I think he is back," Zangetsu admitted softly. "But I am not sure which version of him it was that we saw tonight. The precision alone speaks of the Mentality but this is Ichigo we are speaking of."

Chad nodded before killing the bottle in his hands.

"That was what I feared," Chad whispered.

* * *

Yoruichi sank into the couch of the consulate room she and Urahara were sharing. The place was spacious. Far too spacious. She was used to the little farm house back in Japan that they shared with their two foster kids, Ginta and Ururu, and Urahara's old friend Tessai. The place was always clean thanks to Tessai who seemed completely incapable of accepting his freedom. She didn't agree with the large man's opinion that his place was to serve Kisuke's family and that was that. She didn't care for the very thought that the man was willing to lay down his life for Ginta who had the nasty habit of poking a little too much fun at him. Ururu she could understand; the girl was nothing but kind to Tessai.

She could not fathom the idea of the man in a fight club though. The very thought that people found entertainment in the willy-nilly killing of other human beings - be they slaves or free - sounded wrong. It didn't sound plausible. Yet she'd been witness to it. She had watched the fights that night. She'd seen the carnage. She'd watched the crowds reactions. She'd felt her loose grip of faith in humanity slipping like it had the night she'd seen Masaki Kurosaki laying on the river bank in Karakura. She knew what pain came with the loss of a loved one and yet she'd watched fellow humans jeer and call for other fellow humans to kill and beat and maim each other.

All for the sake of entertainment.

That was what really twisted her stomach. The fact that people found this entertaining. She'd read the books, watched the movies, seen the evidence of this sort of thing but it had never sunk in until tonight. _Fight Club_ was a silly American movie and book on a man's unknown insanity. It wasn't real. Shows depicted it but those were shows. All make-up, fake blood, and good acting. Evidence she'd seen in all her years of places like that ring had never been real to her either. It was on paper and was too far fetched. None of it could possibly be real. No person was really that demented.

She'd been wrong.

Kisuke set a cup of tea down before her on the coffee table before allowing himself to sink into a chair. He dropped his signature hat onto the table and stared at it. It was like he wanted to know if he should pinch himself of not and he thought the striped hat had the answer. She didn't touch the tea, her gold eyes stuck on her husband's blank face.

"You don't think..." he began, his voice startling her. He was whispering too. His brown eyes fell on her questioningly.

She already knew what he wanted to ask: Had the little boy they'd lost all those years ago really been put through all that? Had he been trained to kill for survival? Had he killed? She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to even consider thinking that the little boy she'd found herself crying to sleep over could have been subjected to such treatment. No. She refused to think that way. Screw the evidence. Screw what she'd seen of him at the Bureau. Screw the Proofs hanging from his neck. The little boy she'd been hung up over could not have possibly been in the situation that young man had been in.

Another one of those moments of epiphany smacked her upside the head with a baseball bat. The little boy was no longer _little_ and no longer a _boy_. He had stopped being a _little boy_ the moment he had been taken from his mother's cold, lifeless arms. He'd been ripped from his innocence that night. She'd known this. Kisuke had known this. Yet, they had continued to speak of him in the same terms for years.

_"I keep thinking about that case. The little Kurosaki boy."_

_"That poor little boy."_

_"Looks like a sweet kid."_

_"Such an adorable little boy."_

_"I sure hope that boy didn't see his mother die."_

Always. Years upon years and she had allowed herself to fall into that habit. She couldn't even remember clearly if she had started it or if Urahara had started it. She couldn't even recall if it had started in the privacy of the house, the office, or at the scene when they'd heard Masaki had been with her son.

That child was grown. He stood tall at nearly six feet despite the horrors he'd seen and done and felt. He smiled freely around those he trusted but that didn't change the fact that he had fought through hell and back to get to the bullpen and away from that ring only to wind up there again. He was stronger than he looked too. Not just physically either. He'd been tortured for most of his life but he could smile, laugh, and poke fun. He brought light into a room with his very presence. She'd seen it. The technicians loved having him around. The agents treated him like a long lost brother back from war. Grimmjow's love and fear for him was the most obvious but so was his fear and love for Grimmjow.

"He's not a little boy anymore," she whispered.

Kisuke stared at her for a moment, a brow raised in confusion. She continued to stare back, watching as understanding slowly soaked through his expression. His face went blank again, a hand rising to scrub over his face until it halted over his mouth and chin.

"He's not a little boy anymore," he agreed.

* * *

Grimmjow leaned over Ichigo as the boy slowly slipped the contacts off his eyes. The bathroom of the safe house he had assigned himself to was really only meant for one person to use at a time. Grimmjow had tried to talk him into taking any of the three bedrooms in the house as any normal person. Ichigo had replied to the idea by shoving Grimmjow into the master bedroom before taking the one across the tiny hall from it. This had left them with one empty room across from Ichigo's bathroom which was quickly dubbed as a 'guest bedroom' for the girls should they randomly decide to show up.

If he were honest with himself, Ichigo had expected this after the fight. He had expected Grimmjow to hover over him in his protective manner. He had expected worried looks and words. Hesitant touches, looks, words. Hesitation. Not being left alone for over a bathroom break. The sharp instruments of a normal house being carefully hidden during those bathroom breaks. That was what he was expecting.

He did not expect Grimmjow leaning over his shoulder in his tiny bathroom, eyes glowing with an ire he hadn't seen in a long damned time from the blue haired agent.

"I didn't kill him," Ichigo said softly, his head automatically dropping in supplication. "I just..."

His mouth clamped shut on him, the thought drifting away. It wasn't a really good reason. Grimmjow didn't know the Mentality like It knew Ichigo. He didn't fully grasp the whole concept that 'flight' was never a real option in the rings and that It understood that little fact. Grimmjow hated how slaves were treated in many respects, had been raised to hold them to an almost equal footing. Grimmjow had been raised to treat his slaves like indentured siblings or something.

There was no such thing as an equal footing for a slave though. Ichigo knew this. He understood it to an extreme that even most slaves luckily missed out on.

He couldn't simply say that he just let the Mentality think for him. That he'd let his years of knowledge guide him. That he'd faced things bigger, and meaner, than that hulking monstrosity. That he could have done that fight in his sleep and still have won. He couldn't say anything about anything until Grimmjow knew what it was like. Not until Grimmjow understood the rush, the high.

And he never wanted Grimmjow to understand.

"I just went on defense," he lied weakly.

"Bullshit."

Ichigo winced as he dropped a contact in its container. Of course Grimmjow had seen through it. Grimmjow knew him better than almost anyone. Grimmjow knew how he feared the rings, the Masters, the possibility of failing in someone's eyes. Grimmjow knew that all Ichigo wanted to do was make him proud and to help a friend.

What Grimmjow didn't know was that, if Ichigo was completely honest with himself, he missed the thrill. He missed the high of sending someone flying, of breaking bones, of spilling blood. He missed the cacophony of the crowds. He missed the feel of wrenching bone and muscle under his bare hands and feet. He missed feeling that immense power that came after a win. He missed the cool of the bars on his bruises and the burn of infection in his scrapes and cuts. He missed the pain he earned and gave. He missed the grit of the ring under his feet and fingers. He missed the warmth of blood on his knuckles.

He didn't want Grimmjow to know.

The other contact dropped into its container in a suffocating silence, the lid snapping closed with a deafening echo. Ichigo turned to face Grimmjow, his eyes pleading.

"Can I get you to let this slip this one time?" he asked.

Grimmjow's lips drew into an impossibly thinner line. He didn't respond for an excruciatingly long moment, eyes fixed on Ichigo in a desperate attempt to wait out the younger man's request. Ichigo knew this game and he knew he could play it better. He'd played it for years in harsher environments. Given, this was different.

He liked Grimmjow, wanted to make the man proud, wanted to help him. The mere fact that Grimmjow seemed able to take almost anything in stride had made Ichigo feel...wanted wasn't the right word. He wasn't all that sure _what_ he was feeling when Grimmjow simply strode on with life after each and every bomb Ichigo tossed his way. Sure Grimmjow was always a little nervous after hearing any secrets but he'd never once left the room with a pathetic excuse.

In all honesty, Ichigo really just didn't want to give the ring the chance to get its hands on Grimmjow.

Grimmjow rose a shaking finger, eyes clearly unhappy but relenting to the obvious loss. "I'll let it slip..._if_ you promise me something."

"Anything."

"The second you feel willing or feel something's going to go wrong if I don't know, you tell me," Grimmjow demanded. Ichigo was about to nod when Grimmjow's face suddenly set into a serious look. "I don't give you many orders. This is an order."

Ichigo nodded gravely before slipping past the larger man and to his room. Orders. Grimmjow tried to not give him orders for a reason. Yet, here they were, at a stalemate where Grimmjow had realized he'd have no choice but to give one. Ichigo found himself not minding this order all that much though. It was reasonable. Given the circumstances.


	31. Chapter 29

Shuuhei had expected his foster father to be angry when he was caught sneaking into his room the night before. He'd expected the roaring bellows of how he'd worried Yachiru. He'd expected the hissed warnings that if he ever did it again, he'd never be allowed to walk around without a tracking device that Kenpachi could most certainly get his hands on easily. He'd even expected Yachiru to give him a displeased look. He'd expected everything he'd gotten up until the following morning when he was met with complete silence from both of his foster family members.

He'd eaten in silence, prepared for school in silence, and headed out with Yachiru in silence. The walk to Yachiru's school had been almost painful but he hadn't dared open his mouth. He had yet to admit that he'd been trying to keep Shiro out of trouble and was indomitably failing at it. Shiro was not someone Kenpachi really wanted around him but neither was Momo and Kenpachi was a little more lenient with her. Shiro was a completely different story though and everyone in that house knew it.

Shiro was troubled. Shiro had plenty of reasoning but it didn't change the fact that he was troubled. Ever since Shuuhei had let the whole 'identical twin brother' thing out, Kenpachi had been a little more worried than usual. Though, Shuuhei had noticed it was aimed a little more towards Ichigo than Shiro. There was also the fact that it was partly Shuuhei's fault that Shiro had been able to see his long lost twin since he'd dragged the snow skinned boy to the bullpen. It hadn't happened under the best of circumstances either if the two detectives that he had seen that day really were involved with Shiro's mother's case. He'd been secretive about what he and Shiro were doing but he'd spotted agents he knew all too well in the crowds the night before. He also had the sinking feeling that Aizen from the hospital was going to become another problem in this string of insanity.

School dragged on, Shiro almost as quiet as the rest of Shuuhei's family. Tatsuki and Momo simply watched them form afar with worried expressions. All Shuuhei could wonder about was if Shiro was going to risk going back to Zangetsu's tonight or not. All he could worry about was if Ichigo had been the mysterious Fifteen. So many possibilities came to his mind on just how deceptively powerful Ichigo might be if that had been him they'd watched.

Zangetsu had been extremely freaked out the night before. He had practically dragged them out, practically ordered them to go home. Shuuhei had been through enough personal battles as well as ones he hadn't been a part of that he knew when an order came from an elder, it should be listened to. He also knew that a few fights were better left untouched. The great issue of course was still looming over their heads.

"Hey Shuuhei," Shiro sighed as he plopped down next to Shuuhei during lunch.

"Don't tell me," Shuuhei groaned. "There's a fight tonight."

Shiro sneered at him for a moment before shaking his head. "It's not that. Zan wants us to meet someone Ichi trained."

"That's great," Shuuhei muttered bitterly. He was tiring quickly. "Dad's probably still thinking up how to properly punish me for sneaking out last night."

Shiro snickered. "You got caught didn't you?"

"And you didn't?"

"I've had a little more practice than you by now."

Shuuhei frowned for a moment, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He knew this feeling. The feeling that luck had run out and shit was going to explosively hit a fan. He had the sinking feeling that if they went out tonight, something would happen. Part of him wanted to go along just to be sure nothing did. Another part of him though...wanted nothing more than to handcuff his friend to a radiator, beat him unconscious, and sleep for a good eight hours.

Screw the mistreatment of slaves. It had been happening for years. Decades. Centuries. The laws against the mistreatment of slaves were newer than women's right to vote. Slaves still had no real privileges. They were given the right to fair treatment - shelter, food, clothing, and the ability to talk to someone. It was rare that the last one was ever met since it wasn't as enforced as the other three and those were laughably enforced in some places.

Japan, India, Germany, the UK, France, Italy, and Spain had gotten it right. They had banned slavery. They had even made it so that if a slave were to enter their territory, the slave was to be given his or her freedom which was to be carried on even if the slave left. Everyone accepted this since the slaves that were taken there usually went to get freedom or were taken by owners who were dumb enough to use valid documentation.

Human poaching however, had not been stopped yet. That was the whole reason that Shuuhei was even in this mess. He didn't remember a family of his own, he'd been stolen from it so early on. He'd grown up in multiple hovels where food was scarce on a good day. Kenpachi had damn near spoiled him rotten by now. His own friend had lost a brother to human trafficking and said brother was...dare he even contemplate it?

"I don't want to go out tonight anyway," Shuuhei finally admitted.

Shiro frowned. "Come on. I need a lookout to come with me."

"Take your brother's student or his teacher for all I care. I'm staying in tonight."

"Don't tell me," Shiro sneered. "Your stomach doesn't feel good."

"No. It doesn't. It feels like someone did botched surgery on it is what it feels like," Shuuhei hissed.

"You know what," Shiro mused. "I think you've been hanging out with Yachiru for too long. She's got you watching MLP doesn't she?"

"I'll hit you."

"Not here you won't."

"Watch me."

Shiro continued to glare at him, the lunchroom falling away. Shuuhei met his friend's eyes with his own stifling glare. Neither wanted to back down but Shuuhei had fought with people faster, bigger, and stronger than Shiro. He knew how to hold a look and still sneak in a hit. Shiro didn't. Not to the point of which Shuuhei did at least.

"Think about it Shiro," Shuuhei hissed. "Ever since I dragged you to the bullpen, you've just stopped caring how slippery the slope you're on is. You may not be getting into any more fights around school or whatever but you sure as hell aren't getting your grades up or pleasing your father with these nightly excursions. You're no closer to finding out what really happened to your brother. You're getting stupid in your decisions too. A camera to a slave fight club? Really? Sending the tapes to the FBI? You're not even hiding it all that well either. You're asking for someone to ask questions."

"Maybe I just want them to do their fucking jobs Shuuhei," Shiro growled back. "Ever think of that?"

"Oh and then what? Huh? Even if Ichigo really is alive - don't interrupt me - even if that's the case, he's not the kid you remember." Shuuhei jabbed his raised finger into Shiro's chest, eyes never leaving the other boy's. "He's not the little brother you lost any more. He won't need your protection the way he used to. He won't speak the same way. He won't act the same as you remember. He's had different experiences than you can even imagine having and he'll be lucky if he can function in a friendly manner ever again."

"I don't care," Shiro muttered.

"Oh but I think you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't look so god damned terrified. Plus, since you have the sense to care, you should also think that it's been ten fucking _years_." His finger pressed a little harder against Shiro's sternum. "He's been raised as a _slave_ for ten years. It's not really that you have to worry about how friendly he'll be; you have to worry that he'll ever function as a free human being instead of a living object."

Shiro had the decency to drop his head in understanding and a little shame.

"It's not that you have to worry that he'll still play with you sisters and you. It's not that you have to worry if he'll ever show respect to your father again. You have to worry that he'll do anything to please you all because he thinks you own him. You have to worry if that respect is earned or just a survival tool."

Shiro's eyes began to glisten as he raised a hand to cover his trembling lips. He leaned against that arm, its elbow on the table. Their food was long forgotten.

"You don't have to worry if he can defend himself or not. You have to worry that he'll decide that his life is worth less than someone else's. You don't have to worry that he'll listen to your father or you about a safety concern. He'll follow orders just fine."

Shiro wasn't looking at him anymore, his shoulders trembling. Shuuhei continued to gaze at Shiro's eyes, never moving his finger.

"If Ichigo is alive, it won't matter. He's not going to be the same as you remember. He's different. He became different the moment he was taken. He will _never_ go back to being that little brother you remember because it's far more likely that he's forgotten that version of himself in favor of the version that can survive that ring. He will probably never get over the feeling of being a slave in that ring since it is the only thing he's been for the past ten years besides a witness to being a slave in that ring. He's never going to forget what he did in that ring either. It's too much of who he is now."

Shiro's eyes were leaking rivers worth of tears. His gaze was distant, gathering nothing but Shuuhei's words.

"The sooner you realize this, the better. For everyone involved. Even Zangetsu accepted the possibility of him not being the same as when he left him. I'll bet even the first student has too. I'll bet Shiba has as well if he doesn't think Ichigo's dead."

Shuuhei leaned away from his friend, getting a good look at the barely held back tremors of emotion.

"Hell," he muttered bitterly as he stood and collected his untouched food. "It's probably best to think of Ichigo as dead."

"...How? How can you just say that? All calm and shit too."

Shuuhei sighed.

"I guess you didn't see my scars. " He fingered the lines racing down his face. "I was the sixty-ninth of a batch of two hundred stolen children. I was the only one who didn't die in a ring or as a human shield when raids came through. These," he pointed at the scars again, "were given to me by the closest thing I had to a brother in there. We all had one goal in mind; get out. We'd been told we'd earn our freedom if we were the last one standing. I was in his way. He was in mine."

Shiro had the sense to swallow thickly.

"I clawed his eyes out. Kenpachi had to shoot him out of mercy...After having to shoot me off of him of course."

Shiro's eyes were comically wide, tears still gathered in them. Shuuhei smiled in a mean way.

"Just because I'm all nice with you, Tatsuki, Momo, Kenpachi, and Yachiru doesn't mean I'm always like that." He leaned in close until his nose was almost touching Shiro's. "The same can be said for your brother...if that wasn't clear by now."

He spun on his heel, tossing the untouched food away as he went. He didn't really want to deal with the aftereffect of his words to Shiro. All he wanted was to skip the rest of the day and sleep off his anger and frustration. Shiro was so stupid sometimes. He'd known this for a while but it still surprised him of god damned stubborn the other boy was. It was understandable that he just wanted his little brother back. He had to realize that Ichigo was going to have changed since he'd last seen him though. That was really his issue with this entire situation was Shiro's complete blindness to that fact. Well, he'd finally voiced his concerns.

He'd also voiced his past. A possible mistake considering who he was yelling at and all but it had to be done apparently. He knew what fighting for one's life did to a person. He knew what it was like to think that he was going to die every single second. He knew the loss of family. He knew the loss of friends. He knew the exhilaration of fighting. He knew the thrill he'd gotten as he broke bones or watched life flow from a former friend. He knew how long it took for the blood of another person to cool on his skin.

He knew the excitement and fear that came with being found injured and vulnerable by someone bigger and obviously better armed. He knew the fear of being told he was safe, that he'd never have to fight again. He knew the feel of new Proofs on his person, the elation that he was going to be treated as something other than a form of entertainment. He knew the horror of learning his main job was to babysit a little terror with pink hair and to get high grades in a school that he'd just been enrolled in with no conversation on the matter whatsoever. He knew how strange it was to know he wouldn't have to kill the people he encountered anymore, that he could make real friends. He knew how stupidly hypocritical he felt being a saving grace to other slaves being put through the school while he had no idea what the hell he was doing there in the first place.

As soon as he was outside school grounds, he leaned in the shade of a tree and pulled out his Proofs from under his shirt. The metal of the twin, double scythes was warm in his palm and he couldn't help but wonder what Kenpachi had been thinking when he'd chosen them. Scythes were something that Shuuhei had always feared. He'd been told by Kenpachi that they were supposed to be _kusarigama_, a sort of weapon from Japan, but with a slight twist. He'd asked why a double sided weapon on a chain.

_"When I saw you disarm that kid with nothing but your hands just before pummeling him, I couldn't help but think you were going to be an unpredictable kid. When these were used at range, their paths were hard to track; just like you."_

He blinked away the sting of tears, his hand closing around the Proofs.

"Wonder what sort of Proof he'd get," he wondered idly.


	32. Chapter 30

**So, these chapters are kinda just pressing onwards. I'm going to be back at school in literally the next month. Dorms open and then the following week, school starts. I wanted to clear something up on the translations in this Fic though. I have five years of Japanese under my belt, went to Japan last summer, and am still not fluent. Some of the translations came straight from Google with a few changes of my own (Google uses 'watashi' in almost all circumstances). The ones in here are practically crap. I didn't agree with Google and stitched it as close to what I wanted as possible.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who put up with the ranting author's note a few chapters back. The support's highly appreciated.**

* * *

The ring was loud again.

Ichigo could almost hear the bets being made as the fight was announced. He was sitting in his cage, hood over his dyed hair, his eyes closed. He wanted to focus on the sounds, the smells. He had never liked the sights or the touches. The sounds and smells though. Oh, those were a refuge in hell. Blood had become a cologne years ago, sweat its complimenting scent. The roaring of the crowd, the breaking of bones...those were symphony. He could tell what was happening even if he couldn't see it personally. He knew exactly which cages were being opened or closed. He knew if a body was alive just by how it landed. He could tell which Masters were leering at which woman. He could tell if they were leering at the men too.

His contacted eyes flashed open as the crowd roared again, the doors to the ring opening. Kaien had just finished another fight. He'd won. He'd broken the person's jaw, clavicle, and at least one knee. He'd fractured ribs. He'd stolen air from his opponent twice by throwing them bodily to the ground. He'd remembered how to practically climb up a person's body, wrap his legs around their neck, and lean backwards to gain leverage.

The cage door screamed in protest as it was closed behind Kaien. Ichigo stared ahead like he had been instructed to, arms perched on his bent knees and back against the bars. No one had noticed the subtle nods Grimmjow had been giving him or the looks he sent too directly. Everyone thought he was simply keen on where his Master was in the crowd. The impaired were known to adapt other senses. It wasn't that big of a leap. Maybe he _was_ listening to his Master's voice during his fights. Who the hell really cared?

Kaien sank to the ground in a deliberate manner. His legs didn't seem to want to hold him up any longer. The cool of the cages would probably be a god send. Kaien had always been one to lean heavily against the cool bars after a particularly bad fight. His first solo fight had been rather brutal and Ichigo had never really blamed him for leaning against the bars to keep his face from swelling.

_"Well, you look awful," Ichigo said as Kaien pressed his swelling cheek against the bars of the cage._

_"Well, thanks so much for noticing that," Kaien grumbled. He pressed his cheek a little harder against the bars only to cause himself to wince. Ichigo rolled his eyes._

_"Sit down, then lean," he explained in a soft tone. "Let your body weight act as the balance."_

_Kaien slid to the floor, his knees trying to buckle. As soon as he was situated, he leaned his face back against the bars. A sigh slipped from his lips in slight relief. Ichigo crawled over to Kaien's side, brown eyes searching over Kaien's form. He brushed a hand up Kaien's leg._

_"What're you doing?" Kaien asked, flinching away._

_"Checking for injuries," Ichigo muttered, grabbing hold of Kaien's ankle. _

_He pulled the leg straight and ran a searching hand over it. Kaien remained stiff as Ichigo continued sliding his hands up and down his body. As Ichigo's hand slid up the side of Kaien's torso, Kaien was pressing himself against the bars with wide, wary eyes. Ichigo ignored the look as he gently probed Kaien's rib cage. His hand was pushed away weakly._

_"Alright...enough," Kaien mumbled as he pressed his bare torso against the bars again, curling his legs up._

_"Something wrong?" Ichigo asked, sounding genuinely confused._

_"Seriously?" Kaien asked, expression incredulous. Ichigo just cocked his head. "Oh my god...of course you have no idea about personal space."_

_"...Thought that was obvious."_

Ichigo tried to not flinch when Kaien's eyes fell on him. He tried to fix his eyes on the far wall again but something was crawling over his skin.

"Who are you?" Kaien asked.

Ichigo wasn't completely sure how to answer that. After the first fight, Shank had been willing to give him more. Of course, none of them were the one fight he wanted. Grimmjow had been given an order from on high to try to get a fight with Kaien so that a raid could be executed. Baishin had even mentioned the only reason they really wanted Ichigo in the ring with Kaien was so that, when the raid happened, Ichigo could pull Kaien somewhere out of firing range. The idea was that Ichigo was supposed to pull Kaien towards Grimmjow and Grimmjow was then to get them to a safe area. Ashido was going to have the bulletproof car and such for the two of them to hide while he and Grimmjow made sure no one got too close. The last few weeks had been complete dogs thanks to Shank's complete inability to just say "You're fighting that one" while pointing at Kaien.

"No one in particular," Ichigo said.

Kaien scowled. "Bullshit."

Marcus' head twitched a bit. Ichigo caught it, barely. He'd had the feeling Marcus - Chad - would be listening, watching. That first fight...it had to have made anyone who knew him a bit worried. Kaien hadn't seen the fight but he'd seen the end result. That was probably why he was asking that question. Chad was a little different though. Like Zangetsu, Chad had only wanted to protect those he cared about. He'd bonded with Ichigo to the point of seeing him as a brother.

Chad was willing to follow Ichigo blindly years ago. He'd voiced it. It had made Ichigo physically sick when Chad had left via the underground. He'd been sleepless for weeks after that fight. There had been no real cure for it either.

Then, he'd been given Kaien. A rich kid. Someone with no skill whatsoever. Someone who cringed at the _mention_ of blood spilling over. Ichigo hadn't thought it possible to train him. Yet, here they sat. Kaien had grown much like Ichigo had over the years. It would have been terrifying if Ichigo didn't understand it in his own little way.

Maybe one hint wouldn't be too bad.

"_Ame ga kirai desu_." (**Hate rain.**)

Kaien's eyes were comically wide. Ichigo didn't bother waiting for the mouthed question that Kaien was sure to ask. Kaien knew enough to put a few words together.

"_Okaa-sama ga shinda_." (**Mom died.**)

Kaien pressed against the bars, an arm slipping through them. His cool blue eyes stared at Ichigo imploringly, begging for something Ichigo couldn't quite discern.

"Ichi..." Kaien mouthed, his arm twitching up to catch the edge of the hood.

Ichigo had forgotten his private cage had been moved closer to Kaien's for some reason that night. He didn't flinch as Kaien's fingers clumsily lifted the hood from his head. He did close his eyes though, waiting until the hood fell to his left shoulder. He let his eyes slip open again, trying very hard to not look towards his student. Kaien choked on a strangled gasp, his fingertips brushing just under Ichigo's left eye.

"What happened?" Kaien whispered. Ichigo allowed his head to fall towards Kaien's voice, hair falling over his forehead.

"I got a new owner," he admitted in a soft voice. Those fingers continued to brush over his face, gently, slowly.

"Did they do that?"

Ichigo was a little confused. "My eyes?"

"Yeah."

"No."

A hand brushed through his hair. "Well they sure as hell changed something."

"What color is it?" Ichigo asked blandly.

"Black."

Ichigo let himself snort. "Ah...that takes me back."

"To when?"

"When I was little...My brother and I were always given shit for not having normal looking hair."

"...Brother? Ichi...You have a brother?"

Ichigo nodded, a smile creeping onto his face.

"My family moved after I went missing too. Guess where."

Kaien was silent a moment before his hand gripped Ichigo's shoulder.

"Where ever your new owner lives?" he hissed.

"The very town we're in now. The old man's a doctor still."

It took a little doing to see Kaien's smile through the contacts and the welling of tears Ichigo found himself blinking away. Tears not caused by the contacts, he was sure.

"You've seen them then?" Kaien whispered after a while had passed. He'd shifted so that the backs of their hands were touching through the bars. Ichigo had done the same secretive shifting to accommodate. There was no reason to give the guards ammunition for anything.

"_Otou-sama to onii-sama,_" Ichigo admitted softly. "Not my sisters. Not yet."

"_Sisters_?" Kaien asked in amazment. Ichigo nodded through the guise of resitting his hood over his overgrown hair. "You've got sisters," Kaien mused softly.

"So do you. A brother as well," Ichigo murmured knowingly. He'd seen the files. Multiple times. He'd been briefed by Grimmjow a few times that the Shiba family was very well off, anti-slavery types with a very well off company. He knew how well the family members had been covered in the news since Kaien's disappearance. He'd seen the grief on the two younger children of the Shiba Clan.

Kaien's hand jerked. "H-how-?"

"How do I know that?" Ichigo interrupted. He let his head fall towards Kaien's voice again. He smiled wickedly before leaning forward to grip Kaien's neck, drawing him towards his lips to whisper in his ear. "Trust me. No matter what, you must trust me."

Kaien's breathing hitched a bit but he whispered his affirmative. "Always."

Ichigo smirked against his ear. "We must stay together if we get paired against each other. You understand?"

Kaien nodded before stuttering, "S-sure."

"Trust. Me."

"...Always."

* * *

_Another pointless fight_, Grimmjow sighed inwardly as he and Ashido slowly made their way towards Ichigo's cage. He'd been fairly aware that Ichigo's cage had been moved a few times in the last few weeks. It was never moved too far from where it had been placed in the first place but Grimmjow had a feeling Shank or his boys were being shitheads just to be shitheads.

There had been no use ignoring the blatant glares from the Masters around the place. The Guards seemed to give them the same looks. All save for Marcus (aka Sado "Chad" Yasutora). Grimmjow wasn't expecting any real irritating looks from him of course. He expected worried looks, ones pleading for them to do something other than jerk around. He wanted nothing more than to do as Chad pleaded them to do but he had his orders and he couldn't really do much of anything until the right moment finally showed the fuck up to play.

Ashido was silent as they walked, his eyes scanning everything behind his bangs. His head had ducked the moment they walked in. Grimmjow couldn't blame him for it. As things were, Ashido was thought to be Pantera's underling which meant he'd keep his head down in respect. Pantera was known to run a ruthless crew that had nothing but respectful fear of him. It had been a bit of a stretch to allow Rukia along seeing as Pantera did manage to have a code about women and children; nobody fucked with them. However, it was also common knowledge that, no matter the gender, Slaves reacted a bit more nicely around a woman. Men were automatically dangerous by sight. Women, while a deceptive danger, were still smaller and thinner than most men. Slaves were also treated better by women.

Suffrage or something like it was the believed reasoning. Women were just as beaten down as the average slave. They'd overcome things though and slaves were known to latch onto any sort of hope they could find. Grimmjow had known rescued slaves who had grabbed onto something to hold hope in their hearts that would make anyone else's stomach roll. Sex slaves clung to the idea they would get a gentle owner. Fighters, like Shuuhei, tended to cling to whatever false promise they'd been given. Manual laborers hoped for lighter duty. Slaves working in a domestic situations hoped for a simple family that was already fairly tidy just so things would be easy.

He'd had Ichigo cling to him because he was...what exactly? It certainly wasn't cultural shit or family values. They'd grown up in different countries with different upbringings. Grimmjow lived on a slave using estate while Ichigo had been born to one of the few countries that despised slavery more than anything. It wasn't past experiences either - Grimmjow had never been in a fight he hadn't personally asked for himself and certainly never under the duress Ichigo had been under. He had no clue how the hell Ichigo had found any sort of stability in him of all people.

It couldn't just be the whole strange hair color thing. That had become a joke sure but that was where it ended. A joke. They were practically polar opposites in the color of their hair and eyes. Builds and personalities too. Grimmjow was taller, bulkier, and possibly slower. Ichigo may not have been as tall or as bulky but he sure as hell was fast and hid his strengths well. He was quick to knowledge too where Grimmjow had a tendency to avoid change. Grimmjow went out of his way to avoid change. He'd tried his damnedest to not be put on Ichigo's detail after all.

It couldn't just be because he had been the first to find the kid. Right? Being the first person Ichigo saw after the beating he'd been given - for which they still had no real explanation to - could certainly be a big deal but...Grimmjow wasn't exactly tame looking. Not even on his good days.

The thing about the female influence had been extremely clear in Ichigo's case too. Matsumoto had practically pounced on him when he first showed up at the bullpen. Rukia had been kind to him in her reserved way. Nel and Hallibel had practically adopted him. Every single woman he'd come into contact with at the Bureau had either cooed, gushed, or simply voiced glee when Ichigo was concerned. All the men of course were slower on the up take but all of them knew that happy women meant happy men. God forbid anyone made Ichigo feel unwanted. If Grimmjow didn't get to them first, the women would. Even if Grimmjow got to them first, it was Grimmjow's call on who was really getting first prize.

Grimmjow slowed his pace, drawing his lips into his mouth to avoid laughing at the thoughts crossing his mind. Even when Renji had shoved him against the wall, he'd been far more worried for Rangiku's reaction. Rukia's as well but mostly Rangiku. Rukia acted like a big sister. Rangiku was...clingy to everyone she gave even the slightest damn about. He had a feeling it had something to do with her past which she didn't talk about but it wasn't his place.

The ring's noise grew as they walked. The entrance to the cages was stupidly out of the way but the walk down the mostly empty pathways through the structure were...relaxing in their own way. The silence was only unnerving to some after all. Sure, as an agent Grimmjow had his own issues with silence and long, winding areas with no clear way out. This place however, until they got close to the cages, was a place he could stop and think. He could mull over everything bothering him currently. He could worry over how calm Ichigo was, how the fact that his own brother was watching the fights didn't bother Ichigo, and that Kaien seemed to only be getting sucked in further and further as the days went by.

He had made a point of watching a few of Kaien's fights just to get a feel for what Ichigo could be in for. He couldn't say he was disappointed in the skills. He could however say that Ichigo's were far better. Kaien had more brute strength in him than grace.

"Master Pantera," one of the Guards sneered unhappily. Grimmjow pulled himself to a halt before the posted watchman.

"Came to get my slave."

"Right...Straight down Sir. You'll not miss him."

_I better not_, Grimmjow thought as he and Ashido brushed past the man. He raised a hand to casually slick his stiff hair to seem at ease. There were no loose strands. He just had to do something with his body besides walk. The slick clothes he wore were...stiff from lack of use. He'd had to have a few fixes made to the suit since he hadn't worn it in a few years. The newest issue lately weren't the slick cartels, the ones with more class and honor. It was the gang banger cartels, the ones that claimed honor and code.

These people though. These were animals.

They made him sick.

Shank was a waste of air.

"Sir," Ashido chimed, awe in his whispering voice.

Grimmjow jerked a side-glance his way only to find him pointing. Following the digit, Grimmjow found himself staring at Ichigo and Kaien. They were sitting next to each other by the bars, facing each other, their left shoulders touching. All Grimmjow could see was the back of Ichigo's hoodie, Kaien's barely hidden smile, and Chad in the background watching for any possible issues from anywhere.

_Brotherhood. Understanding. Trust._

Grimmjow's heart clenched at the sight, his mind screaming at him to toss away the facade and just get Ichigo away. Get him somewhere safe. Somewhere not here. Somewhere away from Kaien, Chad, Ichigo's past. He didn't really want Ichigo here in the first place. His plan had been try to buy Kaien. He'd needed an in. Ichigo volunteered. No one tried to talk the kid out of it. All of them talked him into it. _Him_. Grimmjow. Only after Ichigo was put in as Pantera's personal slave did anyone question the idea.

_Breathe_, he reminded himself as he strode forward. _Breathe. It's okay. Friendly rivalry. Has to be it. It's all fine. Ichigo's not bonding...Ichigo's not..._ But he was. Effortlessly. It was clear on Kaien's face that he knew something he probably shouldn't as Ichigo whispered to him. That questions were being answered. That Ichigo was back. That they were together again in this hell. They were both alive. They were safe.

Panic and bile rose in Grimmjow's chest as memories of that fire in Ichigo's eyes flashed past his own. Flames that knew no mercy, no surrender. Flames that he'd stopped seeing when Ichigo was placid with him at home. Flames that had returned when he'd reentered this place. Came back into contact with these people. These people. The ones who caused all his pain and agony.

All because Kaien knew Ichigo's pain, had Ichigo's trust, was a brother.

Kaien had a connection Grimmjow would never have.

He managed to whistle his call, hands tensed in the pockets of his pants. Ichigo stood abruptly, his hand not detaching from Kaien's. Their hands separated, Kaien's dropping to his lap with a soft _plop_. Kaien's steely eyes rose, no caution in them, to fix to Grimmjow's own blue eyes. They were narrowed. Dangerous. Daring him. Ichigo stepped before the cage door as Kaien's eyes continued to glare. Ashido fetched the key of the cage from his pocket, unlocking the cage quickly to catch Ichigo's arm. He pulled Ichigo out, lips moving against the younger's ear as Grimmjow continued to fight Kaien's gaze.

_Mine_, those eyes seemed to say. _You may own him but it doesn't matter. He and I are the same._

"Sir?" Ashido called gently, pressing Ichigo in front of him.

"Let's go," Grimmjow growled. He knew when he was losing. He hated admitting it sometimes but this time made him irritated. He _was_ an entitled rich kid after all and nothing was worse to one of them than losing to another entitled rich kid. Especially one that was surviving being a slave.

Grimmjow was finally snapped from his thoughts when cool air slammed into him outside the structure. Ashido was giving him worried looks he was blatantly ignoring. He couldn't wait for the privacy of the safe house where he could ask Ichigo what he and Kaien had been talking about. Why Kaien had been hiding a smile. Why they had been so chummy. Why they were holding hands.

The drive back seemed nonexistent. He didn't remember getting in the car for christ's sake. All he could think about was Ichigo and Kaien. Looking like twins. Looking so friendly with each other. Looking at ease. Looking like that place was home. It was home though. To them at least. Ichigo especially would see it that way. He'd been raised there. Of course he'd think it was home, his students his brothers, his teacher a father.

Grimmjow was as much the stranger in Ichigo's world as Ichigo was the stranger to Grimmjow's. Neither one belonged with the other. Kaien and Ichigo...they were likely closer than anyone could possibly imagine.

"The hell is your problem?" Ichigo asked as soon as the backdoor shut behind Grimmjow. He seemed more worried than angry.

"...I'm trying to let it slip."

Ichigo stared at him, those contacts giving him an eerie look of an oracle. His expression was quizzical, brows furrowed.

"That..." His head ducked then, fists clawing at the hem of the hoodie. Grimmjow's chest swelled for a moment, hope seizing him. Ichigo was going to tell him what he'd wanted Grimmjow to ignore? God, he hoped so.

And then Ichigo bolted up the stairs, shedding the hood as he went. He disappeared into his bathroom. Grimmjow made it to the top of the steps when he caught the sound of the knob being pressed in and turned. Locked. Grimmjow still tried the knob though, his free hand pressing against the doorjamb as he gritted his teeth. He tried to listen carefully to try get an idea of what Ichigo was doing.

Soft but scared breathing accompanied the clacking of the contacts case. He could just imagine Ichigo trying to steady his breathing while fumbling with the contacts. Fingers shaking. Mouth dry.

"That..." Ichigo's voice echoed through the door. "Why bring it up?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I..." The words wouldn't come. How could he possibly explain how he'd reacted to seeing Kaien being so friendly, so protective. How could he possibly explain that he didn't want Kaien around Ichigo, that he feared Kaien would only cause pain. Ichigo was doing well. No real freakouts. Nothing that made Grimmjow fearful for his sanity.

Just that place. Those people. Too much.

"...I don't want to talk about it."

Grimmjow had to force his body to move slowly, forehead pressing against the hand on the doorjamb. He didn't want Ichigo to know how frustrated he was. Didn't want him to see the anger rolling off him in waves. The jealousy had to stay hidden too.

He blinked. _Jealousy_. That was what he felt. Jealous that Kaien was equal to him. He remembered the way Ichigo seemed to only give his smiles to certain people, only allowed brief touches. Grimmjow remembered how _he'd_ been the one shocked when Ichigo initiated contact. Yet...Kaien and Ichigo's hands slipping from each other had made something snap. Kaien's eyes challenging him snapped everything all over again.

"Why?" he asked softly, not realizing he'd asked.

"You don't understand. It's better that way." Ichigo's voice wasn't near the door but it echoed more. He'd gone to a corner as far from the door as he could get. He must be sitting in the tub, curled in a ball.

"How is it better that way? If I don't know what's going on, I can't keep you safe."

"...You don't understand."

"You said that Ichigo."

"The feel of that place. Makes you sick right?"

Grimmjow didn't answer. Of course that place made him sick. He'd stated that practically the first night. Ichigo had held his hand. Smiled warmly at him in reassurance.

"It doesn't make me sick. I understand why. You don't. It's better you don't. It's a poison. One I don't want in you."

Color tangibly drained from Grimmjow's face.

"Let this one slip."

"...I can't. Not if I'm gonna keep you safe."

Silence permeated the door for an unspeakable moment before Ichigo opened the door. Grimmjow stumbled, not sure how he hadn't heard the shorter man move.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not weak. I thought that was clear." Hands gripped the front of Grimmjow's suit shirt, pulling his face down to Ichigo's level. Cool, calm fire in chocolate orbs met confused ocean blue. "Now, what the hell was your issue back there?"

Grimmjow swallowed. Could he really ask Ichigo to let this one slip when Ichigo had just explained himself? He couldn't make himself meet Ichigo's eyes. Those eyes that made him want to spill all of his secrets. He'd gotten Ichigo to open up to him so many times yet...Ichigo only knew what he told him or what hearsay brought to him. It wasn't really fair was it?

"Jealous," he ground out. "Of Kaien. How he smiled. How you were holding his hand. How possessive his eyes were when I got you. I'm jealous."

He had to speak in clipped sentences. He didn't trust himself otherwise. Ichigo would see he was made anyway but things would be better if he didn't take it out on Ichigo. Who'd really done nothing wrong.

Silence enveloped them, Ichigo pressing his forehead against Grimmjow's. Grimmjow could feel his rabbiting heart rate finally slowing when something changed. Ichigo's body heat was suddenly closer, his forearms pressing against Grimmjow's torso. Grimmjow's eyes flashed open as Ichigo pressed his lips to Grimmjow's cheek, hands shaking against the broad chest he leaned against.

Ichigo's lips fluttered against his ear. "No need to be. I'm indebted to you, not Kaien."

His head buried itself against Grimmjow's chest, his chest expanding as he breathed in deeply. His body pressed against Grimmjow's, his head nuzzling against the taller man. Grimmjow slowly wrapped an arm around Ichigo, his large hand gripping the shorter's shoulder.

"I'm happy with you," Ichigo pronounced softly. "I barely remember being...normal. Shiro-oniisan...My disappearing did so much damage to him and Dad. We have nothing in common anymore and I don't think I can ever really be a free person with everything I've ever done. Kaien and I have too many memories of that place. Chad and Zangetsu are the same. I feel normal around you."

Ichigo's head rolled against Grimmjow's clavicle, his nose pressing against the bottom of Grimmjow's jaw. Grimmjow gripped him tighter, leaning against the hand on the doorjamb again until his arm bent and his hand turned white where it touched the wood.

"Don't be jealous," Ichigo whispered, pleaded. "Please?"

Grimmjow rocked back, his other arm falling around Ichigo.

"Alright."


	33. Chapter 31

The last few weeks had been a bit hellish for Shiro.

Shuuhei had stopped trying to stop him from being an idiot - something of which he'd come to understand he was after the last speech Shuuhei gave him. He'd been going to Zangetsu's like nothing had changed between himself and his friend. He'd actually stopped sneaking out though, blatantly walking out of the house in full view of his sisters, his father. Karin and Yuzu had, naturally, started asking where he was going, what he was doing, if he was okay. Isshin just gave him disapproving looks coupled with a twinge of unease and sadness. The house felt cold to him despite the warming weather. It was like those first few weeks of Ichigo's disappearance, their mother's death.

He wasn't even really lying when he told his sisters that he was going to see if he could find something to record on his camera. They left him notes saying 'Hope you found something. Good night Big Brother,' in their mother tongue on the fridge. He'd go to their rooms before he went to his, kissing their temples and silently praying that he knew what he was doing.

Chad was over at Zangetsu's more often after the main fights of the night finished, when the huge man was off shift basically. They'd talk in hushed voices about things that Shiro was no longer sure he wanted in on. They looked tired. They looked stressed. They looked half way past panicked. He heard the hissing of their voices barely hiding screaming shouts on Ichigo, on the ring, on Kaien Shiba. Zangetsu had even looked up the articles on Shiba; his disappearance, his family, the investigation's starting and slowing. It didn't take all that large a leap to think they were trying to know something about _his_ other student. A student who was making his own waves within the ring.

Shiba was not from the typical, rich family either. They were a powerful family sure but they knew that they were likely to have some enemies. Kukaku Shiba was well known for her ability to beat the crap out of anyone who tried to piss her off. She had bodyguards but they really only held her back from people. Ganju Shiba wasn't to be underestimated either. He was a tinkerer and had a bad tendency of making tools to avoid getting caught by would be muggers. Smoke bombs were his thing. Well, that and his massive extracurricular project pigs that lived far longer than they should have. They were rich. They knew they'd probably have enemies. It wasn't all that difficult to believe that Kaien made it out of being a punching bag rather quickly.

The times he actually went to the ring rather than just to Zangetsu's were the real reason things got hellish. Zangetsu would go just because. Shinji had opted out as soon as he'd verified that his boyfriend was no doubt going to be present. Chad had his job to do. Hiyori had been placed somewhere safe and refused to talk about that place in any capacity.

The ring remained loud. It remained crowded. Shiro always caught glimpses of people who just barely fit in with the general populous of thrill seekers. He'd spotted Grimmjow many times, at least one other possible agent near him at all times. Yoruichi and Kisuke would weave through the crowds, disappearing and reappearing when they felt like it. Nnoitra and a guy with no emotions on his face and poison green eyes would slip around. Occasionally, Kenpachi would slip around too, a bearded man with steel blue eyes following occasionally. He'd even spotted a few women slipping through the crowds and towards the other agents, three always trailing the lead, chocolate skinned blonde.

He went when Chad told Zangetsu that _he_ was fighting. He'd lost any and all interest in Kaien's abilities after that one night. Fifteen had caught his attention now. Zangetsu and Chad seemed to hiss about him in almost reverent tones.

_"His skills are good."_

_"I noticed."_

_"He got out though. Why come back?"_

_"Loyalty to a friend...He was faultily loyal."_

Shiro shook his head clear of the memory and leaned against the guard rail, eyes fixed on Grimmjow's form. The man was accompanied by a red headed male but not the one Shiro had seen in the bullpen. Not enough hair to pull up. Another man sidled up to them, his suit clean pressed, his smile fake and sickening. Grimmjow's back was stiff but he passed it off by leaning against the rail, hands tucking around it until they were hidden from sight. His friend's jaw clenched, his neck raising his head as his shoulders rolled back.

Neither liked the man in the suit.

"Everyone! Please welcome back our newest contender, Fifteen!" Suit Man called after speaking with Grimmjow for a moment. Greetings? Possibly. _Newest_ however...That wasn't a word he'd use for Fifteen now. Fifteen was too skilled to be new to this shit. He was obviously not new to this ring either what with how quickly he handled some of the bigger contenders, the fast contenders, the complete newbie dipshits.

The ring erupted as Fifteen was unceremoniously shoved inside, his innate grace stabling him in seconds. He hitched his head a bit as if looking over his shoulder to glare at his Handler. He shoved his hands into the too clean hoodie, rolling his shoulders.

Suit Man called out another slave as soon as Fifteen leaned his head towards his shoulders. This slave was something to behold. She wasn't exactly what Shiro would consider pretty but she certainly didn't look unwell by Slave standards. Her blonde hair was short and slightly styled in spikes, a fringe hanging over her covered right eye. Her left eye was green and sparked with that same determination any slave in her position had cultivated; a drive to live. She was dressed in shorts and wrapping around her chest, a few wraps around her hands and lower arms as well. Top Rank, well cared for. If Shiro had to hazard guess as to how she would have been outside, he'd think of her as a tomboy.

Fifteen rolled his head to the other shoulder, chin up confidently. His entire posture was calm and relaxed. His shoulders sloped down as he held his weight more on one leg than the other. His body was angled so that if he'd been capable of sight, he would have been looking over his shoulder at his female slave looked about the same, a hand on her right hip, knees bent, body loose. She chanced a glance back towards another female slave with longer, dark hair tied in tails and wraps over her left eye. Then she leveled her opposition with a cool look, lips drawing into a thin line.

The ring fell silent for an agonizing moment as the two seemed to try to get a feel for the other without moving. It was like neither wished to be the first to move. Each wanted an upper hand. Neither wished to show a weakness. The silence was grating as the two simply _stood there_.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the female slave shot from where she'd been standing. She flung a fist towards Fifteen who deftly dodged it. Barely. His hood ruffled slightly as he side stepped away. Shiro barely caught the tensing in Fifteen's hands as the slave hopped back from his opponent. Though, he could see that Fifteen's jaw was clenched.

The female slave shot off again, fist flying as fast as she could get them to go. Again, Fifteen dodged until, finally, one caught him. Hard. His head snapped to the side and he actually stumbled. She was about to get in another hit when Fifteen shot out his own leg, catching her just under the ribs and sending her skidding a few feet away. In seconds, both were on opposite sides of the ring again, breathing hard and checking their injuries with tentative hands.

Fifteen's hands slipped the hood off his head before gently pressing about his temple. A thick line of blood trickled from a cut into his eye which forced him to squeeze it shut. He didn't bother trying to staunch it though. Head wounds didn't stop bleeding with just a bit of pressure after all. He was seasoned enough to know this, obviously. Shiro turned to watch the woman who was carefully testing for any breaks. She probably wasn't finding any but she was obviously bruised at the least considering how she winced. The two took another moment to catch their breaths once their hands fell back to their sides.

The girl shot off first again, her leg flying for Fifteen's shut eye. He dropped to the ground and swiped her remaining foot out from under her. She screeched before she landed heavily on her back in the sand. Fifteen slunk away from her as fast as possible despite the obviously winded quality of her breathing. When she finally pulls herself back to her wrapped forearms, Fifteen is still crouched a few feet away. His back is stiff, his fingertips spread on the sandy flooring, and body balanced on the balls of his feet. He's ready to shoot away if need be and he's ready to do it quickly.

She snarled through clenched teeth before lifting herself onto her hands and twisting with surprising skill to slam her foot into Fifteen's shoulder. His shoulder of course wasn't there since he moved too quickly. His leg however, wasn't quite as lucky, and catches her heel just enough to make everyone in the crowd hiss. Fifteen didn't cry out, his teeth grinding as his one 'good' eye widens slightly.

The girl landed gracefully and then launched herself towards Fifteen bodily. Shiro watched in awe as Fifteen seemed to guess her move, twisting to meet her. His hands catch her shoulders as hers scramble for his throat. He let her weight roll them backwards, his legs tucking under her body just in time. His back connected to the ground, vertebra by vertebra, and then his legs propelled the woman off of his body. She yelped as she flew, as she landed. Fifteen bodily threw himself back to his feet, spinning quickly to face her again.

Shiro blinked in amazement.

The woman shot to her feet again, charging Fifteen with that frightening speed once more. Fifteen, obviously expecting it, caught both of her flying fists in his hands. He then spun her around, his hands arching over her head, and planted his foot between her shoulder blades in a swift kick. He released her hands, allowing her to go flying away again. He held his lead point for all of five seconds before she caught herself with her hands and tossed her legs up to catch his jaw. He staggered backwards with a grunt as she launched back to the opposite side of the arena. Fifteen staggered to a wall, a tentative hand rising to skim over his jaw, a line of crimson sliding past his lips. He spat out more blood than Shiro thought possible for a cut lip.

Fifteen ran his bleeding tongue languidly over his lips, eye still squeezed shut. His 'remaining' eye leveled onto the woman. She instantly tensed, knowing something instinctively that no one else spotted. She hesitated for a moment before her lips rolled up in a scowl. It was like she was thinking 'fuck it' before launching at her opponent again.

Her fist was blocked. Her second as well. She kicked out only to have it caught expertly. She hopped away, Fifteen's hand slipping from her wrapped shin. Her expression was wary, like she knew she shouldn't have been able to get her leg back that easily. Everyone in the crowd was murmuring to each other at the action too. Her head cocked up to glance around, her green eye wide and fearful of the whispering. She made up her mind again, shooting towards Fifteen again. Again, she was blocked. Over and over and over again. Fifteen's not even trying to throw a punch in though he has plenty of openings in her deteriorating attacks. He's just blocking over and over. Shiro instantly realizes that Fifteen's movements were a stalling tactic. He was trying to tire his opponent.

It was working.

Her movements slowed, her openings got wider and wider. The moment she stopped, her chest heaving, eyes watering, Fifteen let his arms drop to his sides. He leaned forward a bit, his mouth moving slightly. Shiro wanted to lean further against the railing but he managed to stop himself. He wouldn't have heard him anyway and he didn't really want to fall forward into the ring.

Without warning, Fifteen swung an unyielding fist at the girl's jaw. Her head snapped to the side and the toppled to the ground. The crowd roared in excitement as Fifteen was declared the winner. Shiro however continued to watch as Fifteen sank to the ground, arms wrapping under the girl's shaking arms and legs. With almost no effort, Fifteen rose back to his feet, the girl clinging to him tightly as her shoulders shook. She had buried her face in the crook of his neck, her mouth open in what Shiro could only read as agony. Fifteen simply held her close and carried her back to the Handlers beyond the ring.

Zangetsu's hand landed on Shiro's shoulder then, making him jump.

"What's up? Where were you?" Shiro hissed.

"See those windows around the ring?" Shiro nodded. "They occasionally have off duty staffers watch from there but if you pay enough you can be down there as well. Otherwise, slaves are sometimes forced to watch their students' first solo fights." The man took a cleansing breath and Shiro's stomach sunk for a moment. "Or, you can be sneaky," he amended.

"So...what'd you see?"

"This," Zangetsu hissed softly as he held up a hand. In his fingers was a small, rounded piece of what looked like foggy plastic. Shrio's eyes bugged for a moment, his fingers tentatively slipping the object onto his own fingertips.

"Whose?"

"Fifteen's."

"So...Shuuhei was wrong about those lenses?"

Zangetsu nodded with an affirmative grunt. "Let's get out of here." His large hand fell on Shiro's arm and gently pulled him away from the railing. As soon as they were outside, Shiro was tempted to ask questions but the feel of wet plastic on his fingertips made him snap his mouth shut.

* * *

Menoly was about as light as Ichigo expected. She'd started out small, even before Loly took her under her wing. She was showering his shoulder with tears as he gently carried her back to her cage. As her defeater, he wasn't expected to pick her up and take her back to her teacher. However, he was a strange slave so no one really gave a damn what he did as long as he didn't disobey the Masters, Handlers, and Guards. As long as his Owner was happy, no one really gave a damn what he did. Besides, they'd been pairing him against male fighters until Menoly was put in with him. Surely, he would act differently around a female.

Menoly had had speed where Loly had finesse. It wasn't exactly bad though. Speed came in very handy. Especially for one as young as her.

_"Your first solo?"_

_"Y-yes," she breathed out, her shoulders heaving, her body swaying from exhaustion._

_"You did good but..."_

_"Do it...just finish it. Please."_

_"You lack pacing." He swung his fist._

He tucked her head under his chin, his eye still clenched shut. He couldn't feel the irritating rub of the contact in it anymore though. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing though. His other eye itched like nobody's business. Surely the lack of irritation was a good thing. Right?

Loly's screams were deafening as he entered the cage area. His head swayed towards her voice, his thoughts resting on being in character for Grimmjow's sake. He watched as the Masters tried to hold her back from him as she screeched bloody murder. Menoly clung to him tightly as she continued to cry. The loss wasn't that bad in all honesty. He'd seen far worse injuries for a newly soloing slave. He'd had a few of them himself. Loly had always been rather protective of her charge though, always warning her that it wasn't a bad thing to die in the ring. That dying would be more freeing than winning.

She spoke from nasty experience though.

He slipped the Handler's hold gently and stepped up to Loly. The dark haired woman wrenched herself free to cling to Menoly's shoulders, blubbering questions on what hurt and so on. The Guards were approaching with threatening air due to Loly's idiotic actions but Ichigo remained calm as he shifted the arm he had under Menoly's legs to clasp Loly's arm.

"Cage," he stated with a rumbling, authoritative voice. The Guards froze, eyes comically wide. "She is not walking. I cannot see very well. Please...lead me there."

The Guards shifted into a little more relaxed postures as Loly choked her breathing into a calmer tempo before nodding. Her hand rose to grip his upper arm, his hand slipping from her own, and she pulled him along. She was tripping over her bare feet as they went, the Guards trailing behind them in silence. He didn't speak the whole way back to the girls' cage, instead opting to listen to Loly's whimpering sobs and Menoly's barely contained ones.

The cage door squealed open by Loly's hand. Ichigo glanced towards the Guards warily. They'd straightened up, faces leering darkly. They'd start something as soon as they thought Loly was no longer shielded. They couldn't be overly handsy with Ichigo since he was privately owned and his owner wasn't the kindest man alive. They could however screw around with Loly as soon as he left her and Menoly alone and at their mercy.

He glanced around and spotted another Handler. He was one Ichigo had had may dealings with before. None of them bad.

Aaroniero, if Ichigo remembered correctly, had the tendency to be firm with slaves but never overly so. He wasn't the kind to pick favorites though. He wasn't cold hearted, he just didn't really give a damn. He had a job and he did it. He used to mutter about how this job seemed to make his anemia worse. Always muttered how he couldn't go into the sunlight anymore since he was too pale that he'd be lucky if all he did was burn badly. He was a lanky man with cool, unimpressed gaze that was fixed on them. Aaroniero's eyes slid over Ichigo's shoulder towards the guards before sliding back to Ichigo. He gave a jerk of his head and Ichigo knew he would keep an eye out.

All Ichigo had to do was get them into the cage. He shifted his hand again to catch Loly's arm and pressed her forwards into the cage. She almost protested, her purple eye flashing towards the now grumbling Guards. Aaroniero slipped up to them as Ichigo gently placed Menoly on the ground, whispering for her to calm down. A firm hand fell on Ichigo's shoulder as the girls hugged each other close.

"Well, this is different," Aaroniero sighed, his voice watery as usual. He pulled Ichigo out by an arm smoothly. "What are you lot _doing_ here? Do you not have posts?"

"S-sir, we were trying to hold that one," one Guard said while pointing towards Loly. She hiked herself closer to her charge, eye glaring towards them. "As soon as the blonde came back, she was uncontrollable."

"Well then, it is a good thing this one," he shook Ichigo a bit to emphasize his point, "was present is it not?" He turned towards Ichigo. "You must be in charge of the young slaves in your owner's care."

Ichigo nodded dutifully.

"Either that, or you are trusted enough by Pantera's men to be Pantera's second voice."

Ichigo shrugged, unsure if that would be true.

"Well, either way, these two women are where they belong again," he stated as he shut the cage door. "Lock it."

The men hesitated to move, eyes darting back and forth between each other.

"I said, lock it!" Aaroniero roared.

To their credit, the men leapt into action as the slaves around them all flinched. It was very difficult to enrage this man but god forbid he rose his voice.

"Let us be going then young man," Aaroniero stated calmly, a hand smoothing his already perfect hair back. Ichigo just nodded, eye still shut.

They were in a less populated area of caging when Aaroniero halted and whirled to face Ichigo again, fingers lifting his closed eye open in a gentle, medical manner. Ichigo's blood froze as the man stared down at him.

"Interesting. Do hope your owner is more than he appears. Like you." His hand came off Ichigo's face. "Close it. I will see if I can find the other lens. Though, highly suggested that your owner get another pair."

Ichigo shook himself. "Huh?"

"Please child. I've been here the longest out of everyone. I know all the ins and outs. I know who has what abilities. I know all of you by face and true name. I just don't tell Shank what I know for I find him...boring and stupid. Now, come along. Your owner must be worried sick."

Ichigo snapped his mouth shut and he let Aaroniero lead him back to his cage in silence.

"What happened?" Kaien hissed as soon as they were alone, his hand ghosting over the cut.

"Nothing," Ichigo said. "Nothing to worry about."


	34. Chapter 32

After the fight with the female slave, Grimmjow found himself having an unexpected chat with Shank. Again.

This snake in the grass made his stomach twist with every smirk sent his way. He wasn't completely able to hide his distaste but he wasn't the only one around the man who gave him disgusted looks. Everyone Shank spoke to had this tense smile on their faces, stiff shoulders. Grimmjow didn't bother showing the fake smile. He could afford to as Pantera, though. Pantera was an unwavering type of person who had a nasty tendency to break the bones of someone he found no longer worthy of his disgust. No one would be surprised if Pantera was giving Shank disgusted looks openly; not after how Shank had dawdled over giving Pantera's slave a fight.

Shank had congratulated him for the win. Though, there was a bit of scolding on how Fifteen could have shed a bit more blood, Shank continued to praise the training. Ashido remained coolly fuming behind Grimmjow during the ongoing praises. Praises that wouldn't fucking _end_. As soon as the offer for another fight came up, Grimmjow was hard pressed to not jump at the opportunity to get the man to _shut up_. He barely restrained himself from nearly yelling in excitement at the _prospect_ of another fight. The chance that Ichigo would be fighting Kaien had been inching closer and closer with each fight. Surely, he'd made it to a high enough prestige to get the fight they wanted.

"Hope it's more entertaining than the others I've seen you put against him," Grimmjow growled. Ashido shuffled a foot in irritation, hands in his pants pockets.

None of Pantera's people liked this place. None of them hid it either. Everyone around them remained quiet if they happened to notice the standoff-ish way Pantera and his men (and women) acted around the snake in the grass in charge. No one wanted Pantera's glare on them any more than they wanted Shank's smiles.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be quite interesting," Shank seemed to muse. He was leaning casually against the railing over the ring, that god awful smirk in place. "I'm thinking of having a whole host of regulars in the next week. Only our best fighters will be shown that night."

Grimmjow's stomach was crawling towards his throat. _Don't you dare..._

"I was thinking of a tournament," Shank stated with a flippant shrug. Grimmjow's stomach lost its footing and tumbled somewhere between his feet. He tried to pass off the involuntary shudder as an irritated sigh, breathing heavily through his nose as he tapped an impatient finger on the railing.

"Tournament huh?" he asked. He didn't dare look at Ashido. He'd probably lose his nonexistent cool even faster if he did. "Sounds like an all night thing. I don't have nights free. As you well know."

Shank hummed at him. "Surely you could...make the time."

And Grimmjow damn near strangled him right then and there. Oh, sure, he could make the time. This entire business was all he was focused on at the moment. Pantera could do whatever the hell struck his fancy - the cartels certainly wouldn't care. He could be here anytime Shank had a fight for Ichigo - especially if the fight was with Kaien. They couldn't bring any hidden cameras until they knew Ichigo would be against Kaien. Proof of life thing or some bullshit. They hadn't been bugged the first couple of times in here since they weren't sure they could get wires past the Guards. They'd found the security amazingly lacking but even as Grimmjow stood where he was, Shank was always careful what he said.

They could get him on soliciting fights. That was about it. The anonymously dropped videos weren't really usable due to the lack of landmarks or even tying Shank to the mistreatment of slaves. Speaking of that third law...they needed video of the conditions including the fights. Ichigo's injuries prior to being brought back weren't enough apparently. The pounds of written documentation, both in full length reports and in notated diagrams, photo documentation, and video documentation weren't enough.

"...When _might_ this spectacular event occur?" Ashido chimed in, a thick accent marring his voice slightly. Grimmjow couldn't even place it.

"Sometime next week," Shank stated, his voice dismissive. Ashido had the tact to not frown at the idiot before him.

"As the person in charge of Mr. Pantera's schedule, I'd prefer to know personally," Ashido amended smoothly. Grimmjow had to hide his smirk. Ashido. The New Alfred Pennyworth. Driver, Schedule Juggler, and Secret Keeper.

Shank twitched. A lanky Guard with cool eyes glided to a halt on Shank's right. He stood there a moment, waiting, hands clasped behind his back.

"I suppose you're right," Shank ground out, eyes trailing over Ashido with an unimpressed air. His head snapped towards the lanky Guard then, an easy smile drawing over his face. "Aaroniero! Come, come!"

The Guard closed his eyes for a moment, his chest falling slowly before he took a deep breath in and waltzed up to them. Even Shank's own men didn't really care for him apparently. Or at least, this one didn't.

"Sir," Aaroniero stated calmly. "Mr. Pantera's Slave is back in his cage."

"Lovely! I was discussing having that slave in next week's tournament. If, Mr. Pantera is willing," Shank smiled, pointedly looking past Ashido towards Grimmjow.

"Give him the date and time. I'll think about it."

Shank's smile dropped as Grimmjow left him with no other option but to speak with Ashido. He let out a sigh before rattling off the details, not bothering to look at Ashido. The red headed agent didn't bother dragging out a cell or a pad and pen. His memory was one of the best in the business. When they were done, Aaroniero was ordered to take them to Ichigo's cage.

"I suspect he will need a bit of patching up before the tournament," Aaroniero stated casually as he unlocked the cage door. Kaien was glaring at them as usual, Ichigo placating him with a hand grazing his. Ichigo stood with a bit of hesitation, Aaroniero's hand rising in preparation for him to stumble. Grimmjow cocked a brow at that.

"What's broken?" Ashido asked as soon as they were outside and alone.

"Think she bruised my ribs," Ichigo grumbled. "Plus...I think I lost a contact."

Grimmjow turned to face him, carefully holding Ichigo's head still as he glared at the cut above his eye. Ichigo let him gently pry the eye open only to clench it shut when someone staggered past.

"Tell the girls he'll need another pair," Grimmjow sighed. "Come on. In the car. I'm giving you painkillers when we get back."

"Thanks," Ichigo grunted as he sank into the car. "Sorry about that."

"Anyone would have lost a contact when getting hit that hard," Grimmjow reasoned as he slammed the door shut behind him. He ran a hand through Ichigo's hair, trying to not enjoy how Ichigo leaned into the simple touch, and smiled at him softly. "Besides, it took this long to loose one. We were due."

The car rumbled to life and Ashido quickly pealed out of the area.

"Can you believe that asshole? A tournament? What the hell is he thinking?"

"There's gonna be a tournament?" Ichigo asked, his tone laced with worry.

"Yeah. Next week. What's wrong?" Grimmjow asked.

"They only have tournaments when either really rich clients are around and are willing to buy, or when they have a new batch of fighters," Ichigo explained. After a moment his eyes bugged. "That's why..."

"Why what?" Ashido asked as street lamps lit his face off and on, casting it in an almost eerie yellow glow. Grimmjow gazed down at Ichigo, worry etching over his face.

"Usually, a lot of new trainees get thrown into their first solo fight before a tournament," Ichigo explained, a hand gripping the sleeve of Grimmjow's jacket. "Menoly, the girl I was fighting tonight, has never been in a fight alone...until tonight."

"...What is it with this case and complications?" Grimmjow growled, pulling Ichigo onto the seats and holding him close. Ichigo simply held Grimmjow just as tightly. If Ashido had any opinions he was wise to keep them to himself. Besides, no one bothered to comment on something that kept Ichigo calm and sane. Especially when the something keeping Ichigo calm and sane made Grimmjow happy and relaxed.

And everyone wanted Ichigo and Grimmjow happy, calm, relaxed, and sane.

* * *

Renji was glaring at the monitor of his screen when Yoruichi returned to the bullpen fairly early in the morning. She had a small drive clutched in her hand as she strode through the crowded cubicles. She wasn't sure what was on it since it had just appeared on her hotel door with a note saying '_Here's more_'. Urahara had wanted her to look it over on their own laptops but she'd made up her mind to have Toshiro and Rangiku help her look it over. She didn't want to miss anything on it. Of course, she had the fear that she'd just brought in some virus or something on the USB. It would be just their luck.

"What's up?" she asked. Renji startled to attention, blushing madly when she smirked.

"Just...going over some stuff," he sighed, his body practically collapsing into his chair.

She moved to stand behind him, finding her eyes stinging at the sight of the ten year old picture she and Urahara had given the team. Those boys...It broke her heart to think of them separate under the best circumstance. Sadly, the situation wasn't what she would have called a 'good' circumstance. Not with the possibility that Ichigo would never be able to fully integrate back into his family's new life, the glaring fact that Grimmjow was amazingly overprotective of Ichigo, or the cold fact that - if what she'd been hearing was anything to go by - Isshin and Hichigo (_Shiro_, she chided herself) may not be on the best of terms so the housing situation wasn't...ideal.

Shiro may have been overprotective when he was younger but after Ichigo's spending the majority of his life as a slave an overprotective brother wasn't what he'd need. Ichigo needed a stability in his life that would remain and was not fully aware of the child lost. Grimmjow had never known Ichigo before finding him and so didn't know of the child Ichigo had been. Shiro and Isshin however knew the child but not the young man Ichigo had become. She and her husband were struck still by the realization that they had been trapped in a thought of what Ichigo was for years, never questioning what he'd become or what had been done to him. Now, they knew that child no longer existed and it tore at them with a harshness that rivaled that of the sight of Masaki lying in her own blood by the river bank.

"Are you trying to piece together a chain of events?" she asked.

"A bit yeah. Trying to find out why they targeted this kid specifically," Renji admitted. "I mean...every way I look at it, Ichigo wasn't the best fighter out of the two boys. Shiro was. Shiro was the trophy earner of the two. He'd been given multiple chances to go to international competitions but refused to leave home since Ichigo wasn't really in it for competition's sake."

"Neither of them were really. It was just something Kisuke and I suggested Isshin have his children learn."

"And there's still the glaring fact that Shiro was the stronger one of the two. Not to mention the most antagonistic. I mean...look at his school records _before_ Ichigo disappeared!"

There was a clattering of keys as Renji pulled up the old files that had been granted through the need to look into the family of the victims. Yoruichi hadn't needed to read them then; she'd been called plenty of times to yell at Shiro for being reckless. Indeed, there were many incidents prior to Ichigo and Masaki being ripped from the family. They'd gone up afterwards, gotten more brutal. At least two schools refused to have Shiro back. Isshin had then moved his family to America to attempt to continue his children's schooling as well as attempting to get away from that damned river.

"So...I mean, you can tell the two of them apart. Why take the supposedly weaker of the two boys? And where'd they keep him all this time? Surely not just America. Plus, what'd they use for transport? Japan doesn't allow slavery and has an extremely strict border control unit. Nothing gets past them without proper identification and they x-ray anything and everything coming and going. How'd they get him out of the country?"

"It's been established that these people have a vast amount of power," she reasoned with a soft voice. "They may very well have connections to the border patrols of any government."

"So...possible bribes? Blackmail? What do they even look for in a person to turn them? Not to mention, what they think would make a good fighter."

"Who knows? They're a poisonous cancer as far as I'm concerned. They robbed a good friend of mine her life, stole her son's future, and ripped apart her family all in one flick of a knife." Her hand gripped the USB tightly, her eyes drawn to the desk. "I wonder how they even sleep at night. I wonder if it's peaceful...The very thought of people like them living easy in a prison with three meals a day, a bed, and shelter from the elements made the two of us violently ill for a very long time. It still makes my stomach twist. Kisuke and I will both admit that we have never once thought of bringing them in alive for any reason other than to learn where Ichigo was. It had been my wish to have the first chance at them."

"You're talking torture here," Renji said with clear unease.

Yoruichi fixed her hawk-like gaze onto him, eyes flashing with something nearly as dangerous as what flashed in Ichigo's.

"_Mochiron_," she stated. She translated as the look of confusion etched over Renji's face. "Of course."

Renji fidgeted a bit in the seat, gaze flicking back to the screen and the family photo. She had a feeling he was wondering about her sanity then. He was probably wondering how long it would take for her and Kisuke to fall off their blade's edge and lose their morality as officers of the law. They had personal connections with the family and shouldn't have even been given the case. Yet, the case was theirs none the less. They'd probably muscled their way into it too considering they were willing to consider torturing people to find a child of a friend was very likely what he was thinking.

"Do you hate us now that you know?" she asked.

"I...I don't know," he admitted. "I can see where you're coming from but..."

"You can't see yourself making that decision personally," she finished for him.

She watched as he nodded, his hands clenching into frustrated, white knuckled fists. She couldn't blame him for the internal struggle. No one was immune to Ichigo's personality. That boy just had to be in someone's presence once and things would change for them whether they noticed or not. Losing him had made that fact blindingly apparent for her. She'd loved him like he was one of hers, watched him play with her foster children, and helped him learn his self-defense moves. That child who gave her such brilliant smiles had wriggled into her heart without her noticing until...until he was just gone.

Then, when she had been willing to give up the hope of ever seeing him again, she and Kisuke had been called to America to assist the FBI on a kidnapping turned larger. She'd seen that child again, all grown up and still as shy as ever. She had been unwilling to believe what she was seeing though for she didn't want her hope rising again. She didn't want that emptiness to grow. And he'd turned out to be the child she had hoped above everything to find and hold again. And that joy was slammed back at her with sharp edge when she'd watched him fight for his very life.

"He's not a little boy anymore," she sighed again. "And there's nothing any of us can do about that."

"No...there isn't."


	35. Chapter 33

Grimmjow stared at the calendar with a dark look while Ichigo toddled around the kitchen making a snack. Ichigo, having been locked in a cage for years, had no idea why Grimmjow was suddenly so damned irritated by the date. Grimmjow, being understanding, couldn;t rightly blame the kid. He wasn't even sure if Thanksgiving was actually celebrated in Japan either.

Half the issue however, was that Grimmjow had completely forgotten that a holiday was bearing down on them until Hallibel had called the day before. Their time off from the ring had been more than welcomed. Ichigo was nursing bruises and stiff muscles, the team was trying to make a plan for a raid, and Grimmjow was svoiding calls from his father. Calls, he suddenly knew the reason for. Hallibel was adamant that they at least have a mock Thanksgiving feast since everyone was so busy and stressed from the last few months. She was already planning that Kenpachi would bring his kids, that Starrk would bring Lily and cook the turkey, that Ulquiorra and Nnoitra would be in charge of drinks, and the side dishes had already been spread out about everyone else.

Grimmjow automatically vetoed the kids. Shuuhei, Yachiru, and Lilynette were nice kids and all but Ichigo was still a bit shaky around crowds. Even when said crowds were filled with people he knew. The safe house was already a sanctuary of sorts; somewhere to escape after the cages and the fights. Grimmjow wanted nothing to disturb the already rather tenuous peace of the place unless it was absolutely necessary. He liked being alone with Ichigo and having the choice of dropping the subject of work all together.

And there was the crux of the matter. No one else seemed to get this.

Everyone liked calling in to check up on them, everyone liked visiting on their off days with food for the fridge and sweets for Ichigo's enjoyment - Nel and Hallibel's girls had learned he didn't remember if he'd _had_ candy before and had made it a mission to introduce him to any and all sweets they could find. Grimmjow was beginning to wonder if everyone just missed having Ichigo around the office until he'd overheard Renji and Rukia muttering about Ichigo being far more stable than they would have guessed. They'd also muttered a few things about him which hadn't bothered him nearly as much in all honesty.

It bothered him that he had gotten so protective of a kid who could probably break every bone in his body should something set him off. Yet, there was this overhanging sense that Ichigo was tangible smoke waiting for the chance to escape its fleshy cage. The feeling that Ichigo was going to disappear had been a sickening rolling his stomach since the first day they'd traded teams for this foolhardy venture.

Yet, here he stood, in a kitchen that was rapidly making his own feel cold and misused with a slave who was quickly becoming someone he never wanted out of his sight.

"Hungry?" Ichigo asked as he stuck a plate under Grimmjow's nose. He blinked in amazement at the intricate set up of sausage and two toned cheese spread over the plate like it was a party platter that had been scaled down to a pie plate.

"Sure," he sighed as he took the plate. Ichigo spun a toothpick in his fingers fora second before Grimmjow snatched it away and began to eat his food with rather violent stabs.

"Something wrong?"

"Hallibel and the rest of them are planning a Thanksgiving feast," he grumbled.

"_Kanshasai_?" Ichigo asked from the other side of the kitchen. If he had been bothered by Grimmjow's earlier actions, he wasn't showing it.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"That what it's called in Japan?"

Ichigo nodded as he picked at his mini-platter of meat and cheese. His face remained impassive as he chewed with a slow churning of his jaw. The kitchen filled with a loud silence then as Grimmjow returned to glaring at the calendar, his eyes hesitantly gliding back to stare towards Ichigo. Shank had yet to call and Grimmjow was beginning to fear that the celebration would be around Thanksgiving if not on Thanksgiving night. As much as he disliked the Team making decisions for him, he didn't want to spend his Thanksgiving raiding slave cages. He also wanted to avoid his father's calls just as badly. His father would certainly be irritated with him for what he was putting Ichigo through as well as annoyed that Ichigo was so loyal to put up with it. They'd be pinned to the wall should it be brought up. Especially since Thanksgiving was one of the few holiday gatherings where Grimmjow's extended family wasn't allowed to be present at.

"Have they called again?" Ichigo asked, his voice cutting through the silence and right into Grimmjow's shoulder. Like it had been aimed.

"No."

"You're worried?"

"Who wouldn't be? He practically promised we'd have another fight this week..."

"Surely they won't be stupid enough to have it on a holiday?"

"Maybe it's _because_ it's a holiday. It's also a possible tournament and your ribs are still questionable."

"I've fought on worse," Ichigo grumbled.

"Please don't remind me."

"Sorry."

"...You think Shank will hold it on Thanksgiving itself?"

"Maybe. It's a holiday as you pointed out. It may be his way of celebrating it."

"That's what's worrying me though...If they have it on Thanksgiving, what're we going to do? Half the Bureau is off this week. Hell, technically, we're off too. No one's going to want to do a raid on a holiday night when they could be at home with warm food and such."

"Then they're lousy company to have."

"How can you say that?"

"If anyone's going to abandon a few hundred lives for the sake of a dinner, I don't want their help."

"Ichigo..."

"It's been ten years Grimmjow," Ichigo shot back. "Ten years I've been stripped of everything I ever was and taught to fight for my life. I've watched people come and go and want it stopped. If the Government's own people aren't going to help because they'll miss out on a dinner, then screw them and their priorities."

Grimmjow sighed, a hand scrubbing his hair from his brow. "I can see your point but it doesn't really change mine. Everyone will want to be with their families."

"So did I."

Grimmjow groaned. "I'm not winning any ground here am I?"

"None."

"Great...Now what?"

"We wait for the call?"

"Wonderful..."

"Look on the bright side. I'm ready for anything."

"And reckless about it."

"Silver linings Grimm. Find them."

"Why?"

"How else do you survive the world?"

"That's how you made it through the cages? The fights?"

"Zangetsu always told me to look for good things whenever I could. It helped."

"Not that you're a ray of fucking sunshine though."

"Hard to pull that miracle off in all honesty."

Grimmjow chuckled. For the first time in a long while, it felt genuine. Ichigo shot him a warm smile in return.

_Keeping me sane again_, he mused as he ruffled Ichigo's hair. _Payback for all my tries or what?_

* * *

**Sorry for the wait. It's Fall Break up here and then I have three weeks of school left before Winter Break. We'll see what happens.**


	36. Chapter 34

Ichigo pulled at his dark hair in a languid manner, fingers twirling the strands into chords back and forth as he waited for his next turn in the ring. Kaien was leaning against the bars of his cage, keeping their backs connected as the musical lull of cheering and pain filtered into the cage area. Ichigo paid the sound and touch little attention as he tried to not rub his eyes. The new contacts itched like hell. Every passing second made him want to ditch the damned things. They were screwing with his sight too, making lines blurry and turning colors milky.

His first fight had been interesting to say the very least. The blurred edges of his opponent's arms and legs had managed to graze him a few times too many for his liking but he'd pulled one of his miraculous wins out of his sleeve soon enough. He hadn't dared to try finding Grimmjow's hair in the crowds though. Not like he would have been able to see the man's worries if he had.

There was an ear shattering explosion of sound from the ring as Ichigo found himself pondering over what Grimmjow's face would have looked like after the fight. He shifted his body to lean against Kaien's in a silent question. Silence rang for a moment until Kaien's elbow pressed at the left of Ichigo's lower back. A body was dragged past them a few seconds later but Ichigo paid it no mind. Tournaments went that way. Bodies tended to pile up on these heavy nights. As much of a shame as it was, Ichigo knew better than to cry over spilled blood. Especially over someone he couldn't recognize thanks to his contacts.

Marcus and Aaroniero were standing nearby, chatting from what Ichigo could tell. They were keeping their bodies close, shoulders touching, heads leaning towards each other's ears. If there were ever a time Ichigo wished he could read lips or had super hearing, it was on nights of tournaments when Guards spoke to each other. He'd heard some before placing bets and such but there were times when Guards who didn't see eye to eye would talk about things like they were childhood friends. The remained that Marcus was a former slave and Ichigo's friend. Also, Aaroniero was a Guard. What would the two of them have to say to each other?

He settled into the corner of the cage, his back coming into contact with Kaien's past the bars separating them. It was a nostalgic feeling having another back against his. It was a dim memory that he could almost make out past the mist of the past that he and his brother had always been together. A clearer memory was Zangetsu wanting to help him stay warm but not making his affections too noticeable. He'd probably done the same with Chad as well as Kaien. The release of tension from Kaien as soon as their backs touched made Ichigo wonder at how comforting an inherent action could be.

The slaves all craved touch. It was something they were all but denied the right to. Crowded cages didn't mean friendly touches at night. The ring was simply a place to throw one's life away if they weren't careful. Teaching or being taught wasn't a gentle process either. Touch was craved and feared. It still confused him that he had been so willing to let Grimmjow touch him without thought. There had been hardly any hesitation since the first hospital visit. At least, on Ichigo's part there wasn't. Grimmjow could have filled coal trains with his nervous hesitations before he got comfortable.

He pulled his hair a little harder than he'd meant to then. The thoughts racing in his mind were dangerous and distracting. He had other things on his mind that had to be explored. Grimmjow was planning to have a raid tonight. It hinged on getting someone's voice recorded making a deal to help him get a slave in an illegal manner. He had to basically set up a kidnapping while proving it was something these men did all the time.

There had been mentions of video surveillance that was inadmissible due to constraints. No one knew who was sending the tapes (Ichigo highly doubted that though), there were no real landmarks within the ring so there weren't any in the tapes, and there was the issue that the tapes really only showed Kaien and possibly Chad but none of the higher ranking Masters.

"Hey Kaien," Ichigo whispered.

"Yeah?"

"If I were to tell you there might be a raid tonight, and that you have to trust that we will all be safe, what would you say?"

"I'd say you're fooling yourself..."

"I told you to trust me remember?"

"Yeah but...Raids are nearly as dangerous as the ring."

It was silent for a moment between them, memories almost tangible as they sat through the clamor of the ring. They hadn't been used as shields but they knew slaves who had.

"My owner is leading it," Ichigo whispered.

"Your owner is a gang member. Before you ask, it's obvious."

"If I told you he's a cop assigned to your missing person's case?"

The question hung for a moment. Kaien shifted against Ichigo.

"Trust you..." Kaien whispered.

"Hm?"

"I trust you Ichi. I really do. It's just..."

"Trust me again."

"Ichi..."

"Grimm and I will get you home Kaien. It's our job. It's why I'm back here."

Kaien sighed. "Fine..."

"Kaien..."

"Yes?"

"Happy Thanksgiving."


	37. Chapter 35

Grimmjow leaned against the railing of the ring, knuckles turning white and transparent as he gripped the metal. Ichigo's first fight had left him on edge. Movements that should have flowed like rivers through rough terrain had become slow, hesitant, and jerky. There had been a delay in almost every dodge, sweeping kick, and thrown punch too. Grimmjow had ignored Shank's little jab of how 'Fifteen' wasn't performing as well as they would have expected but he couldn't help but find himself agreeing that something was off.

He had a bet that it was the contacts but he didn't want to focus on it. He had other things he had to focus on and Ichigo would have glared death upon him if he forgot to do his job because of his own worries. Not to mention, there would be paperwork and evaluations a plenty _without_ his fucking this operation up. He didn't need Internal Affairs on his back for anything more than the fact that he'd let his own Slave act as his in for the operation.

The crowd was oblivious to the slight decline in "Fifteen's" abilities though and Grimmjow knew that it was a good thing they were. If anyone suspected...he didn't want to think about what could happen if someone looked too closely at Ichigo's eyes let alone his abilities. He'd been shocked that no one - the crowd, the Guards, the Masters, or even Shank - had mentioned something about how Fifteen seemed to move in a similar fashion to a previous slave. No one was more shocked than Renji and Rukia on that one though, their constant looks of wonder and questioning him on the side not withstanding. In the end however, they were distracting and poignant questions. The entire operation hinged on their targets thinking Fifteen was a slave with a bored cartel head for an owner and that, despite being handicapped, was a damn good fighter.

Ichigo proved the rumored skill. Grimmjow was set in his typical "Pantera" role which had been sold to far sharper tools in the overarching shed of criminals. The 'kids' had killed themselves over hiding Ichigo's defining hair, getting the contacts to allow for an impediment, and style of clothing that could sell Ichigo as the slave of the head of a cartel. Rangiku had also killed herself over making Fifteen's history check out _every where_ anyone would, could, and should look.

Yet, there was still the feeling that someone was going to notice something off about the whole set up. Especially now after Ichigo had lost a contact during his last fight. Here they were, in the pinnacle of enemy territory, and they'd had to change the contacts they were using which was now hampering their star player. Was there no true justice left in the world? Why, in all the circles of heaven and hell, did this stupid farce come down to a pair of contacts that shouldn't have been employed in the first fucking place.

So far, Grimmjow held onto the hope that out of all the nights they could hold a raid, this one would be one of the ones that Zangetsu and his partners would stay out of the crowds. While he hadn't seen them, he kept a wary eye out for them, fearing Shiro would show up again and something would happen.

Shank leaned heavily on the rail on Grimmjow's right, chattering off like he was the king of the world, his throne crafted from the flesh and bone of all those sacrificed to the rings he watched over. The man oozed a sick confidence that made Grimmjow wonder if Shank thought himself a god. The snake in the grass certainly acted like he thought he was above everything. He'd escaped the law, looked down on the customers as well as the slaves in his domain, and found profits in everything he touched. The man made Grimmjow's stomach curl and bunch at the mere sight of him, the slightest hint of his voice.

Renji pressed against Grimmjow's left, a knowing smile on his face. They were clear. All Grimmjow had to do was get incriminating words on tape for them. An illicit sale of an illegally obtained slave. All he had to do was act his fucking part.

"Seems like this should become a bi-annual thing," Grimmjow shouted to Shank to be heard over the cheering. He ignored the well signaled 'thumbs up' from Rukia who was perched on the steps behind Shank. He was being picked up clearly then.

"I may just have to do that," Shank snickered. "Maybe space it out more though. Need to restock and such."

Grimmjow couldn't believe the arrogance of the man as he gave an agreeing snort, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," he complained. "I can't tell you how often I've had to tell my guys to get new Slaves because they didn't train the new ones properly."

Shank scowled. "Nothing worse than a badly trained Slave," the man agreed as the crowd booed at a call. Grimmjow found himself wondering what they considered a 'clean hit' if a solid punch to someone's temple wasn't fucking good enough until he noticed the downed player wasn't moving.

"Looks like that one needs culling," Grimmjow grumbled. "Fast fights are dull things."

Shank scowled down at the Slave as he was dragged back to his cage.

"Feh! I shouldn't have dragged that one in," Shank growled. "Used to be a fighter of some sort...Military. Until he was left for dead when my people found him. Given him too many chances I have."

Rukia was smiling from her perch. They'd gotten every word.

"Where'd you find him?"

"Some desert country not fit for shit," Shank waved. "No...the best come from China and Japan. Ah...That mother would have been a sweet thing to sell...Too bad her brat was so damned cocky. Had to put that orange haired shit down after all the trouble he caused me; helping others escape! Pah!"

"Too bad you're a loudmouth," Grimmjow sneered, his gun pressing into Shank's ribs. He'd heard enough. His co-workers had as well, considering the explosion of shouting that shrouded them.

"Now...Where's my Slave?" Grimmjow snarled.

* * *

"What's that noise?" Kaien asked as a loud bang made the cages shutter and quake.

"Don't move," Ichigo hissed as he settled down to wait, fingers plucking the contacts from his eyes. "Wait. My Owner's coming to get us."


	38. Chapter 36

Utter chaos surrounded them and Kaien wasn't sure he liked it any more than he liked the usual chaos. New faces were barging through the cage alleys, shouting and bellowing. Guards ran, Masters stumbled, and at least three people were tackled into the cages. There were a few Guards who tossed their weapons, held up their hands, and knelt before even being commanded to.

Before long, Kaien found himself watching as Ichigo's blue haired owner shoved the head Master in line before striding for their cages with a huge smile that spoke of complete relief.

"I see you ditched the contacts," he snickered as a woman with light green hair and a mark over the span of her cheeks unlocked Ichigo's cage.

"Grimm!" Ichigo called before bounding into the man's arms for a hug.

"We did it," Grimm whispered as he held Ichigo close. The green haired woman chuckled at the two as she unlocked Kaien's cage.

"You two are a hoot," she said with a grin. "Though, you'll _both_ be giving me gray hairs after all this."

"Sorry Nel," Ichigo said as he slipped into Kaien's cage to kneel before him. The action brought back strange memories of Kaien's training. It was oddly comforting though, knowing Ichigo was there.

"Ichi," he whispered.

"Meet Grimmjow," Ichigo said, waving his hand at the blue haired man. "He's my owner and an FBI agent."

Kaien blinked. Well, no shit. The number of people with FBI branded on the backs of their jackets had given that one away rather quickly.

"He and his team are gonna get you home," Ichigo whispered.

Kaien stared. "What about you then?" He couldn't ignore the uneasy looks of the two agents standing at the door of the cage.

"I'll probably visit my family," Ichigo shrugged. Kaien couldn't manage to ignore the pained look that crossed Grimmjow's face at the statement. A tearing sound could almost be heard from him too. Kaien sympathized. Ichigo was too important to him to simply let him disappear, kind owner or family aside.

Another round of chaos set his mind whirling with his thoughts as he was pulled from the cage and was told he' was safe. He was filed in with the other slaves to be looked over by paramedics, everyone asking everyone what was going on. Rehabilitation was mentioned. Safety was stated. Chances at freedom were insinuated. His eyes were fixed on Ichigo who was being fussed over by a dark skinned woman with purple hair, crying that her favorite nephew looked awful but the black hair dye was a neat look.

It went for hours. He didn't even really notice he was in the hospital until he was being tucked in by a rather frantic looking nurse with orange hair. The doctor with him had short dark hair and a slight beard around a kind smile. Questions were asked on his pain, history in the ring, any injuries he could think of. He asked for Ichigo, a tugging in his chest making him worry.

The worry only grew when the doctor gave him a sad expression.

"He's being checked over right now," the doctor, Isshin the tag informed him, said. "Seems one of the fighters got a good hit in and there's a bit of internal bleeding."

"Where is he?!"

"Don't panic," Isshin said, holding him to the bed with a strange show of strength. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Don't care. Where's Ichigo? I have to be with him. We're all we've got!"

"I know you think that but you need to listen to understand why you shouldn't panic," Isshin said.

"Spit it out then."

"Ichigo is my son."

"...What?"

"He's my second son and as worried as I am, I know the people taking care of him are the best and I know that the man who found him would move heaven and hell to keep him safe," Isshin stated calmly. "So, I can't panic. It won't do anyone any good."

"But...He's all I've got," Kaien whimpered. "He's the only one who'll understand."

"No, he's not. You weren't alone in that place and it's sadly not the only one running," Isshin continued. "Also, Aizen is very good at his job and will be speaking to everyone who was involved."

"I want to see him," Kaien ground out. If being sad and pathetic wouldn't get him his way, he'd be violent. He'd gotten good at violent.

"When he's awake and _after_ you speak with your family," Isshin retorted. "No sooner."

"But-!"

"No. Sooner."

* * *

"How's your side?" Grimmjow asked as Ichigo's eyes fluttered open.

"Feels like someone cut a hole in me and sucked out my liver."

"Internal bleeding," Grimmjow explained, his eyes worried but there was a hint of pride hiding there. "You probably made it worse by leaping to hug me."

"Hope those stupid contacts burn in hell then."

"Same here, Kid."

A moment of silence passed between them as Ichigo laced his fingers between Grimmjow's. He liked the anchoring feeling of Grimmjow's hands in his. He wasn't unaware that it seemed to calm Grimmjow as well.

"So," Grimmjow mumbled. "You've kinda been cleared to stay with your Dad and siblings if you want to. I'm sure they miss you and all. Shiro's had to be dragged out by Shuuhei every couple of days. Isshin's checked in with the girls who were downright overjoyed to know you were okay."

"I'm the loosest definition of okay, you realize," Ichigo snickered, frowning when his side protested.

"Noted but..." Grimmjow trialed off.

"It wouldn't help," Ichigo mumbled. "I'd be scared of disappointing them with my twitchy tendencies."

"Well, that's...that sucks."

"Even though you gave me Proofs, you don't want the vagabond in your house either Grimm?"

"I...god damn you're evil!" Grimmjow laughed. "I'd love to have you stay with me. Just...I'd prefer you not think of yourself as a Slave."

"Shuuhei wears Proofs."

"No he doesn't."

"He hides them but he wears them."

Grimmjow sighed as Ichigo smiled. The point was clear, even though it was a bit painful to note.

"Only if Isshin's completely okay with it," Grimmjow warned. "And my bosses. Ugh...right handful your are."

"Only way I know how to be."

* * *

Kaien was quiet as he sat with Ichigo a few weeks after his first talk with Isshin. The room was warm, filled with get well flowers and cards. Ichigo wasn't eating hospital food either, a woman called Hallibel had left him with a meal from an Italian place before Kaien had come in. The room reeked of garlic and tomatoes but it was a welcoming smell.

He couldn't get himself to speak though as Ichigo continued to tuck into his food. They'd talked a bit about plans, Kaien being shocked when Ichigo got mad at him for claiming to be a Slave.

"You're not a Slave. Nor am I. We just have shit luck."

He'd tried to argue only to be shot down over and over by Ichigo's cool stare and pointed remarks on how they hadn't asked for this, they had families, they had friends. Comments on how they were better than what those men had labeled them as, turned them into.

They'd remained in silence since Kaien's voice froze up on him. Ichigo ate his fill and flipped through the channels of the TV until Hallibel returned to collect the trash and check up on him.

"Can you tell Kaien to give up on me?" Ichigo asked the woman.

"Why should I do that?" she asked, sounding mildly horrified despite the monotone voice.

"He doesn't want to live without me around, thinking I'm all he's got when I'm not. Plus, Grimm's gonna have his hands full enough with me around."

"Oh, right! The old man upstairs said you could hang out at the bullpen didn't he?"

"Otou-san said I could stay too as long as I visit on occasion," Ichigo claimed with a smile. "I think he wants to adopt Grimm into the family."

"Lord save us all," Hallibel chuckled. She only gave Kaien a look before she left. Not that it was needed. The message was clear.

Ichigo didn't need him.

"Hey Kaien," Ichigo called as Kaien opened the door. "I expect you to visit when we're all better. Grimm's father is apparently the mad cook."

"You...?"

"Want to remain friends," Ichigo stated, his eyes on the TV. "Which is what we are. Right?"

"Right," Kaien smiled.

"Go home. Rest. Recover. We're all going to be in contact after this mess is over with."

"How-?"

"Because I know people in the FBI, Kaien, and all of them care." Ichigo smiled at him then. "No one's going to let this happen to us or anyone like us again. And we're all going to be supports for each other."

"You just know this do you?"

"Yep."

"Your owner's really okay with that?"

"Grimmjow's alright with anything that keeps us _both_ sane."

_Isshin was right then_, Kaien thought as he smiled at his friend and mentor. _There really was no point in panicking._


End file.
